Bottle of wine, fruit of the vine

I can explain.
I don't have a drinking problem. I couldn't be more sure of this given the fact that I grew up with rum and gin as staples in my grandfather's house and the boys in my family celebrate their silly little basketball tournament victories not with a measly six-pack but by consuming cases of beer found stacked up high against the backyard fence.

Before the days of the H1N1 virus scare, at most I'll take a sip during communion. Definitely, a glass of bubbly to welcome the New Year. Yesterday was an exception.

It's time for the quintessential winter office party. Something tells me I have to show up with my arsenal of retorts to save myself from embarrassment once Scott starts picking on me. He is a seasoned sales manager, nice guy but annoyingly persistent and is on a mission to win me back or so I thought.

The party started with hugs and greetings, introductions of the big kahunas and the yearend thank you speech from Santina. Another productive year, yeah, yeah, so where's the bonus? To tell you the truth no one was paying attention to her, we were busy stuffing our faces with the tasty appetizers served up at this Greek restaurant Ammos Estiatoria.

Seated to my right was Jimmy, whatever dish he did not recognize ended up on my plate. He is not allowed to drink alcohol so the bottle of wine got shoved next to my plate also. For some strange reason I didn't mind. I guess I knew I needed some help fending off Scott's relentless pursuit of his prey - yours truly.

Alcohol! That's it - that'll help dust off my defense skills. Let's see.

Averoff Fresco Nemea Red. It's all Greek to me. I never had wine so smooth and fruity. It was love at first sip. Then another glass, followed by another until I became talkative. Maria couldn't believe her eyes, Scott and Mary were amused and Jimmy thought I was a natural. You don't mean natural drunkard, do you now? I started to feel tipsy.

Scott started teasing me about this returning to work bit. I'm never good at repartee but in this case the alcohol worked its magic. The answer is a flat No! I'm not returning to the workforce ever. Little has changed since I left. Val is still Val, Meaningful Use requirements, whatever, just means more work and less pay, so why bother. I'm not knocking you down my good old colleagues, I do enjoy your company but let's keep it this way - once or twice a year is plenty. I'm so totally embracing my retirement and I have no plans of giving up the good life.

And who are you kidding, Scott? I smell a big fat referral bonus behind all this recruiting business.
Everyone laughed. He was busted.

Aha! There is indeed some 3 or 4K incentive. You're so full of it! All along I thought I was being courted for some hard-to-fill-in job. Did you really have to burst my bubble my friend?

At this point I'm feeling woozier. Still determined to have a good time.

The food was great. Jimmy stashed away three of the chocolate gift boxes, I got one. Val won the raffle prize for the third year in a row and I'm convinced it was rigged. So what if it's a Kindle? Val can't even read. I don't care for e-readers. I'm a dinosaur remember? I love my dead tree books. The world must march on I agree but death for the printed books? That will never happen. There is no digital equivalent for rich printed images, woodblock prints, calligraphy and words.

The fun was not meant to end at dinner. Unbecoming as it was, I shuffled my way to the theatre which was six blocks from Ammos. Michael led the troop. Fela - the genius of Bill T. Jones' choreography and the life story of Nigerian music star and political rabble-rouser Fela Kuti. The Afrobeat music was very loud, the dance routines wild and exotic, beautiful black women wriggling and swaying their hips at times snaking down the aisles.

It wasn't as good as I hoped. Many times there were lengthy monologues, nothing seems to be happening, then suddenly followed by the same music and dance. It was monotonous. Come to think of it, I fell asleep most of the second half of the show. Or was it the wine?

Jimmy blatantly ignored theatre rules, I saw him recording one of the long dance numbers. He disappeared after the intermission. I wonder if he was picked up by the theatre police or he just died of boredom.

Our parting words:

Scott: When are you coming back to work?

Me: If you can promise me a party like this every Friday, maybe I will. But then again I might drink myself to a stupor I'd be totally useless to you.

Bottle of wine, fruit of the vine
When you gonna let me sober
Leave me alone...... (Scott)