I like to drink alcoholic beverages. I’m good at it, and I’ve devoted some time and effort to it over the years. When I find a new one, I try it out, and up to now it’s been working fairly well for me. From akvavit to vodka, a couple of hundred kinds of beer, tej, mead, wine, fine cognac and homemade white lightning, I’ve enjoyed them all. Hand me a glass of fermented mare’s milk and watch me smile.
Today I was wandering around my local liquor store and I realized that there was a vast gap in my education: I had never made friends with hard cider. A few bucks later I have a couple of litres of it in hand and I’m looking forward to a new taste experience.
Fast forward to later this evening. I have had two pints of cider. I’m feeling a slight touch of a buzz, but more than that I’m feeling my sinuses close up like Fred Phelps’ sphinctre during a pride march. I check a mirror, and not only could my face ward planes off of buildings, I have a chest that is glowing red and could serve as a griddle if you wanted to fry up some bacon, eggs and pancakes.
I’ve consumed many apples over the course of my life, and more than a few bottles of Thunderbird when it was made of apples, and some damned fine Calvados, all without having to decide if I needed to go to a hospital. Red wine will cause me to turn red, but not to the extent that this did.
I’m feeling better now, but if I’d been around someone else who was exhibiting those symptoms to that degree I’d have had them at the ER getting checked out.
Hard cider, I pit thee. I pit thee long and hard.