The Wine Walk:  Fill me up, Buttercup….

(Robin Williams:  I like my wine like my women, ready to pass out….)

Saturday Night I went with my lady friend to her stomping grounds, the thriving metropolis of Lyndon Station for their annual “Wine Walk.”  Now, I’ve never been on a wine walk before…and from pictures I’ve seen on Facebook, it looks more like a good excuse to get drunk than anything.  Still, I’m always open to new things…so, I accepted her offer to go with.  I drove, so I knew I would have to keep a solid hold on myself and not drink too much. 

First thing I noticed was it was expensive: $20.00 a pop (or – perhaps a fizzle) for tickets.  For that, we each got an actual glass wine glass (I was rather surprised it wasn’t a red solo cup) – wonderfully etched with “Wine Walk 2017” in case you might forget from where you inherited the “stem ware.” Five years from now, surely you’ll see them on some Saint Vincent’s shelf.  Finally, a booklet (with coupons) where the participants were to “punch out” after visiting each location.  There were about ten locations in all. 

The second thing I noticed, nearly all of the participants were female.  This was reinforced at one point by a couple of ladies tittering away behind me (a very crowded tavern) about how “men were too afraid to do a wine walk,” at which point I leaned back towards them and said, “Well, I consider myself a renaissance man.”  I was glad they laughed at that.  Better a laugh, than a glass of Green Bay Packers wine dumped on my head.

Some of the walkers I noticed were complete professionals.  You could tell by the wine glass holders they wore around their neck.  Now, those are some dedicated drinkers!  Keeping your hands free for…..whatever.

Mostly, it was just throngs of pleasant and chatty women (and a few of us guys) walking from tavern to tavern, less and less steady as the “tour” went on.

It rained.  Lord, it rained…  At least it was a good way to wash (Or in the vernacular of those from Lyndon Station…. WORSH) out the increasingly sticky wine glasses. 

I was sort of hoping it might be cultural nom de plume, where one would sample exotic and enigmatic tastes from local wineries with a little history from each area, sample cheeses, and sausages from those areas.  There were a couple of interesting stops, most notably, Miller’s General Store (the first stop).  Miller’s was an old-time local grocery store that would remind anyone my age of the golden age of Mom and Pop’s groceries where locals once purchased foodstuffs and other sundries. 

(Sorry, maam… just came into town for some supplies…) 

Downstairs at Miller’s, a trophy room where the wine was served and the folks down there were at least interested in explaining the differences in the three offered wines.  Plus, I am not a hunter, but I admit I was impressed with the cadre of deer and elk (and a Grizzly upstairs) trophies on the walls.  Also, the friends of my lady-friend, which came along seemed a likeable bunch, which also made the tour a good time. 

Other than that, it really ended up being more of a “…no, more…more… that’s it…. Just a sconce more…. Almost…. THERE!” as the 2.99\bottle wine spilled over the top of the glass.  Towards the end of the 2 whole blocks of “sampling” the stops pretty much gave up…one of the bars just sat bottles of wine out next to a bunch of fruit and cheese curds and you could just help yourself…

A-yup, it was a long, long way from sipping French Chateau Lafite – 1966 at Le Bistro de la Reine on the West Bank of Paris, along the Seine River… a belle femme quietly singing La Vie En Rose in the corner with her concertina as her accompaniment... 

To…  huddling with the drunk, wet masses at the “Double B” next to the pool table, whilst watching the Badgers play football, the Tunes box playing “She’s My Cherry Pie” at full, ear screeching volume and drinking an overflowing glass of Liberty Creek white. 

Though I think the most memorable of it all, was Norm, from…you guessed it, “Norm’s” pouring from those little 1.99 plastic Sutter Home glasses into your wine glass.  (Rolling eyes… )  I just don’t see why he just didn’t throw the little bottles at us as we passed by… 

“Here ‘ya go… get er’ done!” 

Finally, by the end I was ready to head home… and it was not even 8pm.  All I wanted was to go home.  

I know, I know… I’m sounding snobbish deluxe here, but I can’t help it.  It’s not so much a culture thing (well, maybe it is)… Look, I can red-neck with the best of them.  I can wrestle in the mud, baby.  But I just don’t see the purpose of trying to dress up something if there’s no real significance to it.  I personally think they should have had a big ol’ box of wine (1,000 gallons or more) in the middle of the street and ten spigots you could just put your mouth under.  That would have made more sense to me.

When I think of wine, I think of it like this…

 

(From “Sideways” 2004.  The Life of Wine)

Or even -

From French Kiss: 1995. (“Bub”  no, Bob… oh, BYOB”) 

Well, lessons learned, I guess...  I did try it.  When I get a hankerin' for a wine walk, I think I'll just throw a box of wine in the freezer, dig out my "Wine Walk 2017" glasses, and watch something on TV.