(written this morning but WIFI ran out before I could post it)
Bout 5 minutes left on the WI-Fi. Podcast in the pipe, later tonight. I’m in Porto, second city (though don’t tell them that) of Portugal. Being here has reminded me of that wild summer of 2001 that forever changed my life.
I had just wrapped up a stint at New York’s Village Voice as a researcher and a slave. I was in love. Two loves I guess, one was a human the other was the city of Lisbon. Unfortunately they weren’t located in the same countries, which would eventually become a huge problem. But nevermind that. I was here in Portugal and two brave men came to visit; the D-Rock and ThePasta. Pasta doesn’t read the blog, but D-rock is reading this, as you are, and he’s remembering those crazy nights in Lisbon. So crazy in fact, that on many a night, I told him I was heading home and he wished me a good night and KEPT GOING.
so it was that summer that I took him and a random german girl up here to Porto. I’ve long been a fan of this city, argueably one of the most beautiful in Europe. we got a place at some hotel and we ran around mixing tourism with general lazyness. one of the shining moments came as we did a tour of one of the port wine caves. at the end of the tour, everyone is allowed to glasses of port, a red and a white. Then you either go to the gift shop or you get out, as another group takes over the table and has their wine. Sure enough, and I doubt it ever happened again, having just finished our wine, we rose to leave the table. And as mr D-rock is walking by another table being prepared for the next group, he quickly and before anyone realizes what is going on, snatches a glass from the next table and downs it like a shot. A few people looked over in shock and I think he put is finger over his lips and smiled, saying ” shhhhh” the international code for — I didn’t just down an extra glass of port.