This Rosalyn Drexler piece is great. Unfortunately it reminds me of a situation in which I found myself long ago in a far off land. Mr. Nag and I were in a charming small hotel in a southern Portuguese town. I mentioned to the owner, an Englishman, that I'd had some delightful brandy earlier that evening.
He poured me a glass and asked. "Was it like this?"
"Not quite," I responded.
"Maybe it was like this?" he inquired as he poured another glass.
"I don't think so," I answered.
Ever helpful, he poured another glass but it likewise didn't have that je ne sais quoi that made the original so special.
He continued to pour; I continued to reply in the negative.
After I flopped face down on the bar the Englishman and Mr. Nag bore me upstairs to my room, much like the woman above is being carried. In the morning I remembered nada until Mr. Nag gently reminded me. Years later I'm still smarting from the indignity of it all - ouch.
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