Aging Isn't All That Bad

Man, I just can’t seem to catch my breath. First writing, then the defense, and finally the graduation ceremony. Now my new job is starting to kick my butt. More on that later. First, guess who our commencement speaker was. Just guess.

You will never guess because it’s too awesome and amazing.

Give up?

It was J.K. Rowling! I have never been so happy. So happy, in fact, that my parents, my man-friend and I had a bottle of vodka after the ceremony, a bottle of wine with our ultra-authentic French dinner, and for dessert… for dessert we had a bottle of 1955 Vintage port.

My parents have been saving this bottle for my defense. It was supposed to be something really special, something to mark the occasion and to accompany dessert. It was such a great plan. There was only one hitch - they should have kept me sober.

Opening the bottle while most of the way to drunk was a challenge in itself. The bottle neck was sealed in a weird glass-like substance, which shattered when hit by a knife. Showering the floor with the black glass-like shards revealed a cork sunken deep in the neck of the bottle. I was shocked how far in the cork had slipped in the port's 50 years. The cork was so old that it crumbled with every touch. Slowly, piece by piece, I extracted the cork from the bottle. I smelled the cork, which normally does nothing for me except making me look unnecessarily snooty. Not this cork though – it was potently piney. Really piney and musty and not at all fruity or sweet.


Next drunken step before consumption? Explaining to my Father why in the world I don’t own a ceramic bottle top vintage port filter. Five guesses again on why I don’t own a ceramic 50-year old port filter. Is that because port that needs to be filtered is typically half my rent? A coffee filter had to step in and save the day… as did a flower vase that stood in for a decanter. Yes, I am a frat boy.

Luckily, my poorly appointed kitchen did not seriously affect the taste of the port (I hope). The wine was woody and leathery, smooth and rich but not heavy. It was so much more complex than any other port I had had before. I am certain I would have enjoyed the port much more had I not passed out cold on the couch after just a few sips. Can you really blame me? All that excitement and all that alcohol in one day? Not surprisingly, when I woke up the port was all gone. I have a pretty good idea what happened to it. The guilty/no-longer-drunk parties know exactly who I am talking about. My parents have another bottle of the 1955. If I need another PhD to get at it… well, there is no more port in my future.