Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Check the bottles.
I'm feeling a small tinge of nostalgia with my hangover, or maybe last night was almost "one of those nights" (I have no idea what that means). Either way, I'm too tired to list all of my recent exploits. I'd rather reflect on past hilarity. It's my blog, remember, I'll do what I please.
My experiences with Queen's Model Parliament (QMP) were lewd, yet distinguished. A bender peppered with appearances in the House of Commons. Drunk, at three in the afternoon giving a speech about proposed political "nonsensery." That's neither here, nor there. The QMP diaries could make a book of their own. I have a particular, beautifully orchestrated victory in mind.
This particular tale occurred in a giant dining room somewhere on the first floor of the Chateau Laurier. An extravagant banquet of a dinner, complete with a keystone speaker and ice bar. The only problem, the lack of moderation hallmarking my friend group was at odds with the outrageously priced drink list. To be expected at such a formal and classy affair. Luckily, we came prepared. We innovated.
Being the capstone event, after a dramatic and drawn-out week, there were of course people bringing presents. Erik mentioned how we could exploit that. QMP is the epitome of a chach festival. It is an aggregation of self-obsessed, narcissistic, clowns, from one of Canada's finest academic institutions, who pine for the time when they can stand in front of their equally proud, suit-clad peer group and announce their views. Of course there were gifts. What better way to help each other feel important.
I'd got my hands on some wine bottle gift bags, courtesy of my lovely mother. The next step was important, which wine would we choose? It needed to be white and screw top. As two criteria critical for selection by the underaged girl demographic, there was a plethora of variety from which to choose. We returned to our hotel room a few hours later and made short work of the carefully selected bottle. Leaning forward in my chair, I held the empty wine bottle in front of me. Someone passed me a fresh bottle of Finlandia vodka. My pour was artful, spilling not a drop. I rapidly twisted the cap back on before sliding it into the slim green bag.
A few drinks later we made the short jaunt to the Chateau Laurier. Security frisked us and smiled. Presumably at my thoughtful gift bag. I walked to the bar and immediately ordered a Sprite and a glass of Orange Juice. An unusual change from my normal juiced-up swagger. Heads turned. I saw a myriad of confused looks. Undeterred, I found our table and ordered a bottle of white, which was promptly delivered in an ice bucket. From under the table I grabbed my bottle and put it into the gleaming, silver, ice repository. I spiked my drinks and smiled. Victory.
Look at your surroundings and see where you can use them to your advantage. Or just smuggle liquor everywhere you go.
It's a national holiday here, that's why I'm able to do this on a Tuesday.