I myself, waited for nearly 3 hours in the freezing cold (for the Bay Area) to purchase 18 bottles for industry friends and hastilly bought 18 more on an inexplicable whim. I am sitting next to the credit card reciept totalling $2,936.25 and a glass of the classic “Death in the Afternoon,” Hemmingway’s drink of choice combining Absinthe and Champagne.
This day started loaded with anticipation. I had called and texted everyone I knew to ask if they wanted to get in on this historic release, at a hefty $75 plus tax, people were resistant. Then they all started xalling while I was in line that morning. Getting to the distillary was like being in a rally car race. People were ginning it around corners in the old military base then screaching to a hault when we realized, sadly, that we were no where near the only ones in line. Helicopters circled then hovered earily above the croud. Photogrophers spied us from atop the hangar. Journalists snuck in the back doors to bombard Lance with journalistic questions. And the rest of us froze. Pathetically inhaleing as the people leaving the building with their bottles breathed out the green fairy. I opened a credit card in line and spent the majority of the time praying that they would not run out before I got a chance to use it, bitching that someone should be handing out shots to the people with obvious addictions in line, making up illnesses in which the only cure was absinthe. Threatening to drink the whole bottle, refil it with NyQuil and sell it on the black market, we were bored, desparate, and truely hard core.
Like everyone else, the thought of making a profit on this little adventure has entered my mind so I turned to Craig’s List to see who else was venturing into the payoff for the time braved in line for this historic release. These are some of the posts I found.
If you are looking at this ad you know what I had to do to get this bottle. 3 hours at Hangar 1. Me, Tim and Rob standing in that bitter cold for the first batch. We told stories and talked to other people while trying to stay warm. This bottle means allot to me. I will only sell it if the buyer promises not to open it for at least 10 years and pays me in 1500 dollars in $1 bills. This bottle will sell for at least a million dollars in the next 200 years. By the way this is a serious ad. if you have $1500 in ones the bottle is yours.
I waited in front of the door to St. George Distillery at the defunct Alameda Naval Station for 4 (count ’em F-O-U-R) days in the freezing wind and cold, waiting for the HISTORIC moment to arrive: the first U.S. distilled absinthe since 1912 available for legal purchase. Alas, the much awaited 11:00AM hour tolled on the 21st of December of the year 2007. The distillery doors flung open, smashing my frozen nose, but I was not deterred! My frost bitten fingers were shaking as I handed over my plastic currency and stuttered “T t t twelve b b b bottles p p p please”. At $75.00 USD a pop I could hardly afford this expenditure on my part-time clown income, but I was determined to chase the green fairy until I found doG, or, at least got laid. I hobbled through the warm tasting room past professional drinkers parading themselves as Grey Uniformed Green Fairy Guardians. Bursting through the back door I elbowed my way through throngs of green eyed monkeys hungrily eyeing my clinking cache of TRUTH ELIXER. Out on the desolate, weed choked former jet fighter runway I slammed the trunk of my convertible Falcon Futura closed on 11 bottles. Looking across the bay at the almost sinister skyline of Little Gotham West I slither into the back seat, frozen limbs tingling, heart audibly pounding my rib cage. I pop the cork and release the green fairy. Eschewing proper absinthe preparation I tip my head back and gulp straight from the bottle. Pungent aromas of anise and fennel assault my nostrils as the holy green liquid tumbles down my throat. I feel like I am simultaneously ascending and descending as distilled wormwood wriggles into my brain. I returned to this body 48 hours later and there are no words to explain that I now understand everything. You cannot revisit the revelation, thus I have no need to imbibe the remaining liquid doorway. I am dispensing the opened bottle to strangers, and have randomly scattered the remaining 11 bottles near fairy symbols throughout the Bay Area.