The worst day of my life was spent wine tasting

The life and near-death experience of a day spent among the vines

By Andrew Pridgen

It sounded like such a good idea. It’s someone’s odd-numbered-year birthday. There’ll be a limo-van thingy. Girls in unnecessary boots. Guys in unnecessary scarves. We’ll order lunch off a chalkboard that’s made in a truck. Day drinking! A group photo-op on the lawn while blurry bocce ball takes place in the background. Decomposed granite. Using adjective-friendly phrases like blanched peat and chalky pencil lead and hints of flint and cherry blossom.

Then, this happened:

9:05 a.m. Spirits are high! We’re going wine-tasting! Everyone is in their appropriate garb. Collars up and plaid L.L. Bean bermudas for the guys; girls in Forever 21 sundresses who look like they should be traipsing through a wheat field for a men’s magazine back when folks didn’t just go for the hard stuff on the iPad. Let’s board this fucking…