Life through the bottom of a champagne flute
Long title: This is what happens when you go to a champagne tasting and are served 7 glasses of champagne, and down some of your weak-livered friend's glasses as well. And you don't have nearly enough food to compensate for the amount of alcohol had.
Act I: AnticipationMe: Oooh, look at that guy at the center table. He's cute.
Friend: Which one?
Me: No, not the short little wee bald one with the glasses. The one where you can only see the back of his head. I think he's cute.
Friend: How can you tell?
Me: I just can. Ooh look, you can see his profile too. He's cute from the side as well. This bodes well.
Friend: Yeah, maybe. Now you just have to see him from the front.
[Drink, nibble, drink drink drink, nibble, drink drink. Or something like that.]
Me: Hey! He's cute from the three-quarters profile as well. Marring some awful growth on the quarter of his face I can't see, he's definitely cute.
Friend: And it looks like he knows his wine because he asks [the person whose family makes all the Champagne] very detailed questions. He has a nice French accent also.
Me: Ah, I'm in love. Or tipsy. Yes, definitely tipsy. And maybe a little in love as well.
Friend: Well, he does keep looking back over here.
Me: [drawing an air heart with my fingers]
Act II: Revelation[drink drink Oooh the wine bar owner (Lou) is going to sit down and chat with us for a bit! I love Lou! drink drink]
Me: So who's all at that center table with the wine maker?
Lou: Well, you know next to you is Jonathan..
Me: [nodnodnod, he is not answering my question]
Lou: He just found out he won the Pulitzer today
Me: Oh, that's exciting! He totally deserves it. I love his writing. Now, at the center table..
Lou: [says things, but all I hear is..] blah blah importer blah importer's wife blahblah writer for LA Times blahblahblah... sommelier...
Me: Where's he a sommelier?
Lou: Hm, I don't remember. Hey, which Champagne is your favorite?
Me: [vague gesture at one of the many glasses at our table]
Lou: [says to find him before he leaves, gets up to circulate some more]
Me: Heh, I only asked him about that table to find out more about that guy.
Friend: Yes, I was wondering if that was why.
Me: Sommelier. I could marry a sommelier. If we didn't have a lot of money, at least he could keep me in wine.
Friend: Too bad he didn't know where he works. We could make that our next outing.
Me: Dammit, I'm going to have to find out.
Act III: Sobriety
Me: [Get up to say bye to Lou, weaving perhaps just a little bit after all that alcohol. Remind of him secret plan. Anyways. Drunk on a Monday night. That's always a good start to the week.]
Friend: Hey, the guy talked to you! What did he say?
Me: Hm, you know, I don't really remember. All I remember he asked me some questions in French, and I responded in French.
Friend: How did he know you knew French?
Me: I don't know, but dude, he is like my height. Actually, I think that I might be taller than he is. And, that vest he is wearing? Houndstooth? It's so ugly! Houndstooth!
Friend: So that means you're not having his babies?
Me: Houndstooth. Short.
Me: But we should still try to figure out where he works.