Thursday, November 02, 2006

Red Red Wine

I was poking around the options on my new phone yesterday and came across this song as a potential ring. (Incidentally, searching for a ring is not nearly as compelling as online gaming. But I digress.)

It reminded me of the last time I used this song to describe a crazy event in my life...

The time: Fall 1985
The place: Paris, France
The reason: Junior Year Abroad with Ripon College

I'd determined in high school that I wanted to go to Paris. To drink in all that the city had to offer. I wasn't disappointed.

Signing on with AYA meant traveling with one fellow classmate, Kathy, and a bunch of strangers. One of them was a petite, bottled-magenta, funky dresser by the name of Jessica. She was funny, as brash as her hair color, and generally fun to be around.

Once we got to France, I saw quite a bit of Jessica and enjoyed her company. When the family I was staying with announced they were going "en vacance," I pounced on the opportunity to have a party at their appartement. Kathy and Jessica were eager co-conspirators.

Fast forward to the actual event. Being a midwestern college beer-drinker, I was not yet a red wine kind of gal. But that was the libation of choice that evening. I have a feeling all of us were treating the good, cheap French wine with the flagrant disrespect Americans are known for. (How many stories did I hear from the French about how no one is ever drunk?) There was music playing, great food, fun people (all American, none of whom had yet to learn the art of holding their liquor), and lots and lots of empty bottles.

As my friend Kelly would say, we all had a good shine on. It wasn't until several bottles deep that I began to perceive a change in one of my guests. The usually perky and positive Jessica had taken on a sad, Modigliani-esque mime quality. Her lips were an angry smear and her crocheted beret sat askew. When I asked her what was wrong, she stormed out of the apartment.

Lesson learned. We switched to a different red.

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