(Irish brogue) Aye, what you doin, lad? You don’t shoot it. You savor it “exclaimed the big burly Irish tow truck driver from Wisconsin as I downed the glass of scotch the bartender placed in front of me. Sputtering, and feeling as though a nuclear reaction in my chest was about to explode bits of me in all directions, I coughed out “Ya could a old me that sooner.” Riotous laughter erupted from the belly of Matt, the irish tow truck driver from Wisconsin and all of his "clan" that sat around him at the bar.
The previous evening, April 7, 2018, the ship I had boarded earlier that day, Royal Caribbean Cruise lines Adventures of the Sea, disembarked from San Juan Puerto Rico on a seven-day cruise around the southern Caribbean. For the second year in a row, I would be giving talks to the group, MS cruisers, on board the ship, sponsored by the non-profit organization, MS Bright Spots of Hope.
“You hold it in your hands, bring it up to your nose, and take a big sniff, giving your taste buds a little hint of the excitement coming their way." He instructed. "then you take a little sip," he continued, "and swirl it around your tongue." "If you do it just right," he continued, "you can taste butterscotch."
Earlier that day in the waters off the beach at Philipsburg St. Marten, I made the acquaintances of a few fellow passengers. Later that night, as I wheeled through the piano bar on the seventh deck of the ship, I heard my name being yelled behind me. Looking around, I saw my new friends sitting around a table in the elevated area of the bar by the piano, beckoning me to come join them for a few drinks. Two of the guys lifted me in my wheelchair up the one-step to get to the area of the piano. We sat around drinking, talking, drinking, and singing songs with the piano player that that no one really ever liked, yet somehow knew all the words.
As the night went by, unnoticed by me, slowly, people from our table started to peel away, turning in for the night. Before I knew it, I was the only person remaining at the table in the elevated area of the bar by the piano. With slight panic, I looked around searching for somebody, anybody I knew to help me get down from the bar. I could see no familiar faces. Fortunately, a few guys at the bar noticed my plight, and came to my rescue, lifting me off the elevated piano bar. As a show of gratitude, I popped a wheelie in my chair and rode around the floor.
Apparently, this scene did not go unnoticed as hearty laughter emanated in my direction. The loudest laughter came from the burly Irish truck driver from Wisconsin. "Buy ya a drink?" he offered. Graciously I accepted his offer. "Do ya like scotch?" He inquired. "Don't know, never had it." I replied. "Aye, I get ya the good stuff."
The bartender placed two warm glass of the "good stuff" in front of us. I looked at the Irishman inquisitively. "You're supposed to drink it at body temperature." We said "Cheers", and I proceeded to down the entire glass at once.
Once the laughter quieted, introductions were made to the rest of Matt's "clan". A few glasses of scotch later I finally mastered the art of drinking scotch and was able to taste butterscotch. Whether the taste of butterscotch was due to improvement in my scotch drinking technique, or due to the quantity of scotch I drank, is difficult to say.
I awoke the next morning at 1 PM with an enormous hunger. As I got into the elevator heading for lunch, a young couple in the elevator laughed and said, "Boy, you look like you had a rough night." To which I quipped, "I learned a hard lesson last night. Never learned to drink scotch with an Irishman." The couple burst into laughter. "It was YOU drinking with Matt last night!"
This became the first of my drinking adventures during the weeklong cruise through the southern Caribbean. However, this was by far the most memorable. Not only did I perfect the art of drinking scotch, I also learned to proceed with caution whenever I hear those words in an Irish brogue, “Buy ya a drink."
