Spidr's Den

I’v always had a fascination with Absinthe, the green fairy. A few years ago I read a copy of Stalking the Green Fairy and was especially interested in what James Villas had to say about Absinthe and was intrigued to learn it was available in the US again. I longed to try it. It’s way more than 5 bucks a shot and I live in bumfuck Ozarks. So, opportunity to consume Absinthe seemed slim to nothing, unless I special ordered a bottle and it would have to be a case and it is terribly expensive and, well, you get the picture. It wasn’t going to happen.

So, at the ripe old age of 55 I take a job as road manager for a band. Said band plays a gig at Hollywood Forever, which you may or may not know is that cemetery in Los Angeles with some of the most famous people in film and in California history. So I schmooz with one of the owners. At some point one of the band members slips me a styrofoam cup with about 1 1/2 ounces of green liquid in it, gives me a sly grin and says, “check it out babe”. My first reaction was to slap him, but I digress.

I sniffed, raised an eyebrow in surprise, gave him a promising smile, and sipped, very cautiously. Oh my. Absinthe. It took the two of us most of the evening to finish the heady  delight in a styrofoam cup. Oh for a crystal glass.

I mentioned later on to the owner how much I had enjoyed it and my long interest. He mentioned there had been an Absinthe tasting party a few weeks before and they had all this extra Absinthe just laying about and he would probably give it away to the employees. I asked if he would hire me. He laughed and offered me a bottle to which I accepted.

As we were settling for the performance that night he presented me with a brand new bottle of beautiful green fluid, Absinthe, and asked me if I knew how to properly drink it … with the little spoon and a cube of sugar. I shyly said I had read about it but had never seen one and would have to get one. To which he pulled one sterling Absinthe spoon from his desk drawer and handed me.

Cruising down the highway in the wee hours of the morning I casually mentioned my acquisition to my drinking buddy. He was furious and green with envy and assumed I would share it with him and demanded to know what I had had to do to get my hands on the bottle. I smiled coyly, batted my eyelashes and said it was my secret.

He still thinks I gave the guy a blow job or had sex with his girlfriend while he shot the whole thing. I let him think that. He wants part of the bottle and I have made it clear, HE will have to earn it the same way I did, and to call me when ready.  I haven’t heard from him yet.

Spidr