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Johnny Walker Red

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Ever since I spent all night hanging onto the throne in a Florence, Italy youth hostel, I’ve never liked whiskey.

Perhaps bad connotations create forbidden items, or maybe they just leave a scar on the memory.

Today, I decided to write wrong my actions in Italy and renew a relationship with “whiskey.” Mainly because Nati insisted we bring a bottle, and mainly because I was so glad our farm-working stint was complete.

It was definitely a day to celebrate.

Tomorrow I fly home to my old life. To my lonesome husband. And to a renewed vision for the future.

Thank you Costa Rica – for making me happy again.

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Written by barrentine

September 7, 2008 at 12:55 am

Posted in Uncategorized

One Response

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  1. I have a story about Johnny Walker Red.

    One of my journalism professors in college was a crusty old reporter named Doug Clark. Man never graded a damn thing. You went into the final not knowing if you were acing the class or failing it. He told extended stories about nuns and guns and secretaries’ skirts. He took up a whole class telling us about this yacht race he covered back in the ’70s. He told us what it was like to witness JFK’s assassination with a press badge and a notebook in hand. He was the very definition of a good ol’ boy, and his favorite thing to drink was Johnny Walker Red. He probably mentioned it once a class.

    About two years ago he died suddenly of a heart attack. And all across the country, his former students departed newsrooms and copy desks, went alone to dark bars and ordered a single Johnny Walker Red, served neat.

    He was an awful professor, but the journalism world is a little bit poorer without Doug Clark in it.

    lace

    September 10, 2008 at 5:02 am


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