Archive for the ‘jack daniels’ tag
A Single Shot of Whiskey
There is something iconic and beautiful about a single shot of Whiskey. It’s the drink of choice for cinematic tough guys who sidle up to bars and drink from dirty glasses before demanding the bottle. The drink of writer’s and poets on their road to self-destruction, and of Chris, my best friend from college, who slugged whiskey from the bottle (and then chased it with Coke from a Big Gulp). Personally, the Big Gulp ruined the aesthetics for me, so when we drank together, I’d belt my whiskey unflinchingly straight, no chaser. Grrrrr. When you’re really badass, no mixers or glassware required.
Years have passed, Chris has turned to German beer, and I’ve learned to use a rocks glass (and when really being fancy, rocks). Whiskey is still my drink of choice, and occasionally, when the situation calls for it, I embrace the simplicity of the single shot.
Like when I couldn’t move, a shot of bourbon got me into the car for my grandfather’s funeral. After a harrowing week on the road, it helped me celebrate my move across the country, and when my college diploma arrived in the mail, after a decade of being held hostage, Jack Daniels and I met it at the door.
This year, while visiting family for Christmas, a single shot of whiskey eased me into my holiday. For some reason, it was a long road back to Chicago, and it’s negative five-degree weather. I was alone, didn’t want to be, and while the evening before had been perfect, everything went wrong the day of my flight. I’d broken the mirror off of my car while parking, forgotten my winter gloves, smashed my cell phone’s headset, and when I checked into the newly built hotel, depressingly located in a suburban shopping mall, record snow was falling. I watched it come down as I tracked my lost luggage on a website that barely worked.
Starving, and too late for room service, I raided the mini fridge looking for jellybeans. That’s where I found him. Jack, wearing a teeny, tiny airport bottle. After some quick hellos, I powered down my computer, took a long, warm shower, and from the comfort of my “heavenly bed”, sipped a pure shot of whiskey. I sipped it slowly, and unflinchingly, from the bottle. No glassware required.
For the rest of the week I enjoyed juices, punches, and the odd Christmas margarita, but that single shot had set the tone. No matter how cold, or far away from home, I was a badass, and was going to be fine.
