Wine fountains

“Big nose…that’s it.”

Behind me is a middle-aged guy with a shirt unbuttoned dangerously low for a Boston winter, even at a wine tasting. He’s talking to himself, registering the wine in a loud way so we can all hear him.

“This one feels boxy.”

He either knows his stuff, or bluffs like a poker champion. I am busy trying to figure out the differences between a cabernet from Argentina and another from Napa valley, so I stop paying attention to his mumblings. Playing connoisseur takes a lot of energy and determination.

I suddenly hear “pssssssssssssssssssss.”

This man is spitting wine out of his nose, eye sockets and every other orifice connected to his mouth. The Italian cabernet is flowing out of him as if he were the fontana di trevi. I suspected this guy of having done some tasting before coming to the store, and the wine coming out of his nose seems to confirm my suspicions.

Unfortunately for my friends, they get caught in friendly fire and are forced-showered with red wine. The man feels horrible, and oddly starts kissing my friend’s hand in apology. We are all weirded out, but he doesn’t seem to mind his indiscretion for more than a split moment. He buys them the bottle of wine he sprayed them with, and continues the tasting, mumbling under his breath lots of adjectives

Morale of the story: at a wine tasting, stand in the back row.