It was a good *hic* day.
They signed a goofy card for me in the office before we had birthday bundt cakes (so everyone could get their preferred flavor.)
I had to deal with all my favorite kinds of “dilbert is an understatement” madness for most of the day. (Seriously. Some day I’ll tell you.)
Had real NY style pizza from NY Pie in Hendersonville (which is actually a solid New York style pizza, thank God in heaven and whatsisname who’s a Queens expat.)
Came home and unwrapped some really great cigars from my Dad and some silver from Mom. Got to talk to my Dad for the better part of an hour and my sister for the same, and just straight up soak in family madness.
But after that I really needed a little something (cough *hic*) so I wandered across the street to Blend, where Hunter (and some cute little new girl, wow.)
I mentioned that I was coming in for a Birthday cigar and Hunter snapped to attention, more expediently than usual (which is rather saying something) with a “I’ve got just the thing. Medium or strong?” I just pointed up.
“On me” he said.
He came out with a nice looking cigar with an otherwise nondescript purple band.
I heard the cluster of guys at the other end of the bar talking something about 9/11.
“I blended this myself when I was at the Drew Estate factory.” I was a little nervous about it.
“No shit? Excellent.” He cut and lit it for me and I took a puff. So far so good.
“Yeah. I was in the building.” Screw it. Let’s go for big air. Stopped them dead. Always does. “Yeah. North Tower. 51st floor.”
“You have something drink with this that’s not cask strength?”
“Awh, you know I like the cask strength stuff.” Hunter said.
“Yeah, man. But you know I can’t drink that.”
“But the flights now. I have to pick where I sit. Next to the window? away from the door? Can I kick his ass?” Said the 350 pound guy in the suit that was supposed to look expensive.
“I’d kick your ass.” It was adorable.
“Well then, man, you really must know something I don’t. Because from where I’m sitting that’s remarkably unlikely.” Something about veins full of nougat came to mind. But I just turned around.
“I could.” Just let him go. He’d already over-extended himself. Besides, I could hear him breathing from 10 feet away.
Hunter showed me a bottle I probably should’ve recognized which I shrugged and nodded to. He took it away to pour, and set it down.
“I’ll get his drink” one of the other guys had appeared as I’d turned around to puff on my cigar. The new girl nodded her assent.
“Hey thanks man.” I don’t get bought drinks a lot. I’ll get the occasional buy back. But this was clearly a trade for the 9/11 story. Sigh. Fair enough.
So I went in to some of the fun parts of it. (surprisingly, they exist.) I’ve posted the 9/11 stuff before and I’ll get to it here in a few months. No reason to rehash it here.
Apparently this guy and his buddy were in town for a VC conference of some kind and fat boy had made a pitch that he was following up on.
We ended up talking on and off for a couple hours. Fat boy left and his buddy came over and the three of us closed the place down on a bunch of topics that frankly all blur together right about now.
Hunter’s cigar was actually really nice. he sent me home with another blend of his, from the Joya De Nicaragua factory, which I’ll put to flame in the next few days.
But between him buying my cigar and having my first bourbon bought for me. I came out of there cheaper than I ever have, by about a factor of 4.
So yeah. Hippo Birdie to me 🙂
I’ll take it.