The Russian’s annual wine tour has become one of my favorite October activities. There’s something about getting sloshed in a limo for two hours while moving between vineyards that’s great.
Let’s rewind, this year everyone was on time and ready to go. When the limo driver turned out to be a gay that was glad to be driving us because his usual job was, “driving Miss Daisy,” we chuckled at the comment and made nice. Though his suit was covered in a fuzzy something similar to long cat hair, but it was on there in wads so who knows what it truly was. A few minutes into the ride we realized the CD’s the Russian had burned wouldn’t function in the outdated player. Trying the radio, there was nothing but static. The next option was to plug in a phone, but there was no auxiliary jack because the limo was apparently from the time of the movie Driving Miss Dairy (that’s 1989 if you’re wondering).
The Russian asked the driver to make a quick stop by his parent’s place so we could grab music. The driver refused. I thought for a moment that the Russian was going to shank the drive, he was pissed, but pushed forward with the argument and the driver eventually stopped. Now would be a good time to do a roll call of who was in the vehicle. Larrymore and his boyfriend, Chompy, named for her unintentional ability to chew through wine glasses and West Side Brian. We sat, the driver smoking in the front seat, the air of tension thicker than the smoke. It wouldn’t be until later that I would understand why it was so important that we have music. What felt like ages passed, but again we were on the road.
The wine tour itself was a good time, though we had to skip our first stop being behind schedule. There are a number of photos from the day on Facebook, none of which I will post here. But they visually chronicle the day’s excitement. My friends all look great in the photos, but my pasty skin looks red and somehow my face is always captured in a moment where I look as though I’m about to sneeze, laugh or possibly have a seizure – good times.
It was the car ride home when I was fully intoxicated and Stevie Nicks was blaring and then Paramore, that I appreciated the Russian forcing the music issue. Now the only problem was we couldn’t stand up to dance. Next year we need one of those tacky Hummer Limos…with a hot tub. But this just got me revved up and made me want to dance more, that and the two bottles of wine we consumed on the car ride home. I lost count but at this point there was somewhere between three and five bottles of wine in us, plus the tastings as well as the vodka punch from the morning car ride. Yum. I should also mention that two wine glasses were stolen from the vineyard by shoving them down by pants. Think about that, this was no easy, or comfortable, task.
Once again in Queens, at the Russian’s house, it was all about playing the best of the 90’s. We started with the typical Britney and Christina, to which Chompy and I showed off our best Genie in a Bottle moves. Following this up with TLC’s, No Scrubs and some Shoop by Salt-N-Pepa. Chomby and I were all over the patio like it was a dance club and they were about to throw us out. Then it happened, as unexpected as our music choices, we were doing our best Miley twerks. I have some new found respect for Miley, twerking is hard. Plus you need to be able to shake your ass, talk about an unwanted cardio workout mid buzz.
Sadly, every great night has to come to an end. As it did I made my way back to the train sending out a few text messages to Mr. Kitty, who I’m now sort of friends with, Late Night and a few other randoms that are in the lineup. After texts were exchanged I decided to go home, it was only midnight, but there was no possible way I could make the day any better than it had already been, which was intoxicating, delicious and amazing.