I am NOT drinking the Merlot!

I’m sitting on an airplane headed home from another epic adventure with my girlfriends. I’m trying to think of how to summarize the last few days. Can I really do it justice?

I could write a short story about our wine tasting tour alone. From Richard’s bum being hungry to the folks from Mississippi that you couldn’t help but love. Even the Texans hopping on the trolley with a 12-pack of Coronas and passing them around was a key element to the entire experience.

I guess it’s one of those stories that you have to be there to appreciate. So I won’t go on, but I will share a few highlights.

1. Did I mention Richard’s bum was hungry?*

2. One of the Mississippians asked (in all seriousness) how long boxed wine stays fresh. Richard gently explained that they don’t drink much “jug” wine in California. Later, during the pairing section, the same southern gentleman said the Chardonnay would be excellent with possum. Aye chi kye chi.
3. Richard (our 60-something, tan, tall, handsome, balding, charismatic tasting guide) had a hip wiggle that was only outdone by his air guitar. (He got uncomfortable when we started getting drunk and hitting on him.)
4. I found a cowboy hat. And everyone on the trolley fell in love with each other by the end of the day. You know when 21 people are on a trolley singing “Love Shack" it’s been a successful wine tasting tour.*

As I mentioned in my last post, I came home immediately after the wine tour and slept all evening, night, and morning. But as it turns out, it was that drunken stumble home with six bottles of wine that would bring us together with another new friend. A Green Peace activist stopped me to ask for money and I said, “I’m really drunk. I just want to go home.” Pause. “Will you call me a cab if I sign up?” And that’s how I met Joe (and became a monthly donor to Green Peace). Joe is the best cab driver in the city and became our personal driver for the rest of the weekend. While I plastered Kilby Court stickers and Salt Lake Recording Service cards on the back of his seats, he took us to the aquarium, Lalla’s, Cibo, and eventually through the McDonald’s drive-thru. Joe, Joe, Joe. We just aren’t sure who he really is. DJ? Cabbie? Caretaker? Computer Editor? Veneer Molder? (But yes, his glasses were real Versace.)

Yesterday, we took a walk along the beach with Murphy the Dog.* There were sea lions basking on the shore and glistening on the rocks. We watched a poor starfish be bludgeoned to death by a selfish, mean, rotten Seagull. There were people running, biking, walking dogs. Weddings were taking place at the parks. What a beautiful and sparkling place. Really.

Last night, we got dressed up and headed to the Aquarium. But the night really started when we called Joe after dinner and he dropped us off at Lallapalooza, a martini bar. And they did have some delicious martinis.* And the rest … well, let’s just say that some things should remain between friends. We danced, we met “Steph”, we blacked out, we stumbled, we hit people with our purses, we got flipped off, we ran over bouncers, we cleared dance floors, we drank too much … and by "we", I mean me. Bless my friends for being such better drinkers than me. They kept Sharon in line while still dancing, blacking out, stumbling, and doing a lot of apologizing in my blazing path.

I like Monterey. A lot. I think I’ll go back. Miss you already, Motha. Love you.

*Pictures coming soon!