So last night was the much revered Cigar and Scotch Night out on my porch. The motley collection of ruffians, toothless hobos, and staggering drunkards/pickpockets I call friends arrived on my porch, salivating over the thought of splitting a bottle of rotgut and cigars that could only be fairly deemed "rolled up, piss soaked newspapers".
Part of that is right. Most of my friends are the scourge of society. Working class Joes with jobs that no ones wants (like political consultant, ba-dum-pish!), janitors/maintenance, mechanics and general lackeys for the richer, snootier city fucks that slovenly drive up here, using my fair city as a place to dump their kids and problems when they don't want to deal with them for a weekend. You know the kind. The "three-martini-lunch-then-hop-in-my-Aston-Martin-while- blitzed-doing-120-down-roads-I-don't-actually-know-and-bribing-my-way-out-of-my-16th-DUI" kind of people.
It can be generally said that most of the stuff we drink and smoke is significantly, if not outright, classier than we are. Cigars in the range of $8-$10, bourbon and scotch on the middle of the road price range and beer that, if it were a guy competing with us for a woman, would win hands down and leave us drowning in the bottom of a bottle at 3am in a bar that's far too nice for us. Now don't get me wrong, this isn't saying that I don't like the cheap stuff. Jim Beam White Labe, Pabst Blue Ribbon, and Gordon's gin in a plastic bottle are excellent friends of mine. But we tend towards the affordable, easily disposed of luxuries instead of $80,000 cars (or politicians, ba-dum-pish!).
So, that night we staked out on my deck like robbers casing a jewelry store, bottle of The Balvenie DoubleWood and a tin of Don Lino Africa Kuro cigars. I will be honest, the conversation was of a manly nature, about women we've courted and nights of revelry long past, so I wasn't exactly focused exclusively on the scotch. What I did note is that it was rather pleasant. A nice golden, bordering on amber liquid with an oaky and ripe fruit nose that had little to no smoke. The taste exhibited some of the sherry cask it had sat in with rich cranberry-like spice. A nice drink. The cigar was equally as tasty. Very spicy, with leather and cedar and slightly nutty. And the filtered French Lucky Strikes were damn tasty. Nom.
That was our night. A night of drunken revelry with good company. And no one threatened harm or death on anyone, so that was a first.