Tag Archives: rant

The Grapes of Wrath

BrO_l5NCUAANy-yOkay, okay, so I’m a little bit of a wine snob.

In the same way that Miranda Kerr is a “little bit” of alright.

I constantly travel the world, among elite circles, so I’ve been fortunate to try my hand at many (arguably far too many) a tipple here and there.

That being said, while I am an ultra-mega wine snob, I don’t belittle those who aren’t (well, those who know me will know that I could be stretching a truth a little). For those who aren’t fine wine connoisseurs, I’ve put together some tips for defusing some potentially awkward situations.

Don’t Say “Whatever”

It is great to try new things, but not to be blasé about it. It is better to have an opinion, and appear confident, than to have no opinion at all. When someone asks you what kind of wine you would like, at the very least, pick a colour.

If that is too much pressure, simply turn it back on the asker with “what would you suggest?”

You’ll likely get to try something you’ve never tried before. And if you like it, keep it in the memory bank for next time. Baby steps, my little wine noob. Baby steps.

Don’t Guess, if guessing is all you have

If someone at a wine tasting or cellar door asks you “Can you guess what grape this is?” – tread carefully.   And whatever you do, do not say “Bordeaux”? Bordeaux is a prolific (and important) wine region in Southwest France, not a grape variety.

And if you don’t know the colour of a wine based upon the grape name, do not partake in this guessing game at all. You’ll be a 50/50 chance of only getting the colour right.   A Pinot Noir is red. A Pino Grigio is white. It’s a slippery slope for the uninitiated.

I find it is often best to display a very slight, knowing smile and say nothing at all, waiting for others to play along first.

If put to task, I would then aim to distract. After ostentatiously sniffing and tasting the wine, simply say “ambitious, but never haughty.” If anyone is brave enough to ask you what you mean, glare at them with withering disdain and say nothing further. If pressed, utter a small “hurrumph” and start muttering about pigeons. Better to appear senile, than inept.

Don’t ramble

When someone asks what you think about a particular wine, quite often they are expecting a flowery answer, and one which really cannot be provided without extensive knowledge and experience.

Play it safe, and make deliberately vague, generic comments that you can easily get away with, like “robust”, or “smooth” or simply “good structure”. If all else fails, just say “I don’t know how to describe it, but I like it”.

Do not, under any circumstance, start suggesting which side of the slope the grapes were grown upon, or you’ll look like a pompous git.

Often times, it is simply more fun, and more endearing to your fellow guests, to make light, by peering at your wine with a raised eyebrow, and saying something like “hmmm… it does have an oaky afterbirth”.

Don’t be Grape-cist

Don’t be that guy who says “I only drink Red”. Or “I only drink White”. This is an immediate red flag to any discerning wine buff who is looking to sniff out a novice. Instead, if you truly do hate red wine, come up with a good reason, like “I just had my teeth whitened, so I’d prefer to stick with white tonight”.  Realise also that no two reds or whites are alike. It’s time to put those long-held grudges behind you and pick up a bottle of “the other colour” again. You will likely be pleasantly surprised.

Don’t sniff the cork

Many are aware of the phenomena known as “corking”. In a nutshell, “corked wine” is one that has developed a flaw caused by contamination from a chemical compound contained in cork called 2,4,6-Trichloroanisole, or TCA for short. This is also known as cork taint. The reality is, a cork can be tainted, without the wine being tainted. If the wine is tainted, the wine itself will smell tainted. I assure you, you do not want to reject, or discard an expensive, vintage bottle of plonk based upon a cork sniff. And if you sniff a metal twist-off cap (or a cork-free cork), you are guaranteed to look like a twat.

Don’t overdo it

When a sommelier or a waiter proffers you a small sample before pouring for others, adhere to the ritual, but don’t overdo it. Let me cut to the chase here. The purpose of this ritual is not to determine whether you like the wine, it is solely to determine whether it has been tainted (see above). Do not ask to sniff the cork (see above). Do not over-swirl.   Do not over-sniff. And do not even taste it unless you suspect it might be tainted and you need to know for sure. And you will know then, I assure you.

Instead simply give the wine a quick couple of swirls. Have a quick sniff. And give the sommelier a brief, casual nod. This should take no more than 5 seconds.

Do not lean back in your chair, and make a big song and dance over it, swirling and sniffing and sampling, or else the sommelier will know you are full of shit – and the crafty ones may even seek to trip you up on something else later. It’s not worth the risk. Again, if it is a twist cap, just wave away the entire exercise, and simply tell them to “pour away, my good fellow/lady”.

Don’t imitate Hannibal Lecter every time Chianti is ordered

Maybe one day it will be hip and retro to throw out a Lecter impression. This is not yet that time. Right now, it is still a little bit try-hard. Wait until Silence of the Lambs is a true cult classic. Safe to safe that will be in around 2031. Make a note in your calendar for the year 2025 to start cellaring a nice Chianti Classico in anticipation.  Chances are no-one in the room will get the joke, but oh how you’ll giggle to yourself.

*Note, it is however perfectly acceptable to throw the quote out, whenever you are offered Fava Beans…

Don’t say you prefer a “dry”’ red

Why? I know that you mean to say that you prefer a wine that is less sweet.   The problem is, almost all reds are dry, by design. That means that the sugar has been fermented into alcohol. The sensation of sweetness in red wine is caused by the presence of super-ripe fruit, which tricks your palate into thinking “sweet”. Instead, say that you prefer reds that are “less fruity in style”, like your good self.

The Sideways “Fucking Merlot” Caveat

Don’t hate on fucking Merlot because Paul Giamatti told you so in “Sideways”. Hate on fucking Merlot because it tastes like the fucking Merlot grape has drunk its own pee, after eating a bowl of asparagus soup, just before it was sent to the crusher. It is a varietal meant for blending, and blending only. So don’t go all “Sideways” because a wine contains a blend of Merlot.   But if it’s a straight up fucking Merlot, all gloves are off.

Don’t fear the wine list

They can be lengthy. They can (often) be written in foreign languages. But don’t let that hold you back.

If all else fails, ask your waiter for a recommendation, along the lines of “I’m having the duck, and my friend/spouse/bit-on-the-side is having the Mahi Mahi, what would you recommend to best accompany them?”

If all else fails, select the second or third least-expensive bottle in your grape of choice. But never say “I’ll have a bottle of your second cheapest wine, thanks!”, or you will have foregone all of your previous hard work.

Don’t get into Bubble Trouble

This is another slippery slope. Most wine noobs are at least aware that Champagne is not an arbitrary term for all sparkling wines. If you make this mistake in the presence of anyone who works in the beverage industry, you’ll likely get the age-old lecture that unless the bubbly was made in Champagne (a region in the Northeast of France), it ain’t Champers – it’s sparkling wine. Best to play it safe, and simply talk about the “bubbly” or the “sparkling”.

Dealing with the Arsehole Wine Snob

Aka, the Wine Snoot. A Wine Snoot tends to make the subject of wine appear to be more complicated, more difficult, and more mysterious than it needs to be. Granted, there is an awful lot that can be learned about wine, but the basics one needs to learn in order to improve their appreciation of wine really aren’t that difficult. Wine isn’t rocket science and no one needs to be made to feel stupid around wine by someone making it out to be more complicated than it really is.

All in all, good readers, drinking wine should be enjoyable. There are no firm and fast rules. Wine enjoyment is highly subjective. And it’s truly a personal experience.

So if some over-pompous tosspot starts ruining your experience, wait for them to describe a wine, smile and while shaking your head discouragingly say “no, no, no, that’s not what you’re tasting at all”. And then turn away, and never speak to him again.

And if all else fails, pilfer his car keys and flush them down the toilet.

Bad Air Day

I hate airports. Airports are nature’s armpits. Yet it feels like I spend half of my life in them. In fact I probably do. For most of my adult life, I’ve travelled extensively for work, interspersed with pleasure. As such, I’ve seen a lot of airports, in a lot of countries. For the most part, they’re dreadful places, but there’s no reason that they should be. Yet sadly there’s precious little we can do about it.

Partly we pay for airports with fees hidden in our ticket prices. As such, we are essentially captive customers. We can’t take our business elsewhere without it being awfully, awfully inconvenient and/or inefficient. The Siberian Railway, Zeppelins and Shetland Ponies will only get you so far, nowadays.

Can we protest the charges hidden in our airfares? No.

Can we negotiate a better deal? Of course not.

Airlines aren’t going to help us either. They want to pay the airport as little as possible to use it themselves, so they’re happy for passengers to be endlessly swindled by rampant profiteering. “That’ll be $100 for parking, $15 for that limp sandwich and $10 for your teensy, tiny beer, etc. etc.”

So what are my* biggest gripes? Here are twenty to get you started:

 

1)     Wi-Fi:

All airports should have free Wi-Fi. We’re forced into turning up hours before departure to make things smoother for both the airport and the airlines. The least they can do is pony up for free and good Wi-Fi. Relax, we’ll still buy your overpriced, tepid coffee. Just please allow us to get some business done. Or at the very least distract ourselves from all the other unpleasantness, and heaven forbid, interactions with humans.

 

2)     Security:

Stop the over-scrutinising security. More than 12 years on from 9/11 and airport security remains a theatre of the absurd. Bin Laden must be laughing (gurgling?) in his grave.

It started with the confiscation of all things pointy. No more mid-flight self-administered mani-pedis for Uncle Gaz. Sigh. Now I’m embarrassed to show my toes in meetings.

Next came the mandatory shoe and belt removal, accompanied by increasingly bored pat downs. Seriously if you’re going to touch me up, at least show some interest. Indeed Security don’t actually need you to remove your belt and shoes. These sadists get their kicks from watching you try to waddle off while juggling all of your shit (laptop, keys, wallet, phone, sunglasses, bag, belt and shoes) with one hand, while holding your pants up with the other. There’s a word for them, and it doesn’t not rhyme with bunts.

The latest was the prohibition of liquids and gels. The liquid thing always makes me laugh. At every security checkpoint you’ll see a bin brimming with “contraband” containers taken from passengers for having exceeded the volume limit. Now, the assumption has to be that the materials in those containers are potentially hazardous. If not, why were they seized in the first place? But if so, why are they dumped unceremoniously into the trash? They are not quarantined or handed over to the bomb squad – they are simply thrown away. They seem to be saying they know these things are harmless, but they’re going to confiscate them anyway, and either you accept it or you don’t fly. Point in question – renowned (and outspoken) atheist Richard Dawkins reacts to having a small pot of honey confiscated. I hear you, Mr Dawkins. http://www.news.com.au/travel/travel-updates/scientist-and-atheist-activist-richard-dawkins-loses-it-after-airport-security-confiscates-his-honey/story-e6frfq80-1226753217875

 

3)     Layout:

Airport design boffins – please design airports more functionally. Seriously, you should have anticipated that there would be queues. So at least design the place so that the inevitable queues don’t cross the thoroughfares. Should be simple enough, surely. I hate queues at the best of times, but having to cross a queue to get to another queue, is not only impractical, but downright infuriating (see Point #7 for more information). Furthermore, many airports strive to be too architectural, when it is wholly unnecessary. All we really desire is banal and competent. We’re not going there for any reason other than to get from A to B. It is not a destination we seek out in our downtime. In an airport, I’ll take function over style any day (at least for the essential part of the experience, arrival and departure – not in the First Class Lounge where I expect, nay demand, opulence). Pour me another Dodo Skull of Unicorn Tears, there’s a good fellow!

 

4)     Baggage Claim:

Too often, we are faced with an impenetrable human blockade when attempting to salvage our luggage from the conveyor. It’s like a war zone, only slightly less congenial. The only time people become more territorial over real estate that they don’t actually own, is in shopping mall car parks. Common sense at the baggage carousel should be this:

 

You stand back in an orderly manner.

Your luggage spins into view.

You casually stroll forwards to the carousel to collect your item(s).

You head merrily on your way.

For the Neanderthals who don’t get it, there could also be a line, 2 metres from the carousel, labelled “Stand This Side of the Fucking Line, You Fucking Fuck”, or something equally ambiguous. This should be coupled in conjunction with a looping, educational video, displayed on an array of screens, providing advice on proper baggage collection etiquette in line with the above.

Failing that, they should eliminate the rotating carousel, and simply have a conveyor, 10 feet off the ground, that dumps all the bags off the end in a huge pile. It will work just as effectively.

What I do love, is the backroom baggage handler who always places a single piece of lost luggage on the conveyor 15 minutes before the real luggage arrives, just to fuck with people. I dig that guy.

 

5)     False Advertising:

You should only be able to name an airport after a city, if it is actually located within the municipal bounds of that particular city. Paris Beauvais Airport, I’m talking to you. “Paris” Beauvais Airport is located in the town of Beauvais – 85 kilometres outside of fucking Paris. I once missed a flight to Prague, after jumping in a cab and asking to go to Paris Beauvais Airport. 120 Euro later, I arrive 5 minutes too late to check-in. “Paris” Beauvais Airport – you just made the list. It is deception of the highest order. So no Christmas card for you this year, fuckers.

One of my favourite deceptions is Frankfurt Hahn, a Ryanair special that’s around an hour and a half from Frankfurt. Congratulations Ryanair. You take the cake (right out of the baby’s mouth).

 

6)     Smokers:

Airports. Please. Fix this. You must have designated, well-ventilated smoking areas – away from all the entrances. Non-smokers shouldn’t have to smoke half a pack of second hand smoke just to get to a taxi, or to get inside the terminal. I hate the smell of cigarettes, and I hate smelling like them. As a non-smoker, this shits me to tears. Fix this.

 

7)     People:

Airports are full of hordes and hordes of people. You’ve met people, surely. So you know what I mean.

Tourists are the worst. How many times have you heard interchanges like this? “Oh, you’re going to Laos? I’ve been to Laos. It’s a nightmare, actually. It’s all tourists and you can’t get a decent Latté anywhere. I actually feel sorry for the people that live there.”

I fucking hate people. Not you, dear reader. Just the other people.

 

8)     Neck Pillows:

People who wear inflatable neck pillows in arrival or departure lounges need to have a dignity biopsy.

 

9)     Clocks:

More of them, please. And the bigger the better. I appreciate that every arrival and departure screen has the time in the corner, but the display is so small that you have to virtually be standing underneath the screen to see it. Incidentally, there is never a Departure Screen in any restaurant, bar or café…

Make it easy on us, airports of the world. We’re always conscious of the time, so please put some big motherfucking clocks up, all over the motherfucking place, for all the motherfuckers to see. Common sense says it would benefit everyone, even the non-motherfuckers.

 

10)  Children:

As many of you likely know, children are essentially small people. Please see Point #7 for more information. Please keep control of your small people, or I will suddenly become “Mr Trivia” on air crash statistics. That should make for some fun family travel for the next 8 hours (and indeed for future travel). This is a public service announcement, parents of small people. You have been warned.

 

11)  Signage:

They’ve announced your flight is boarding just in time for you to discover that Gate 82B is, surprisingly, not right next to Gate 82A, but in a completely different terminal building. Now, I run for no man. Some ladies, yes. But no man. And I don’t want to be a ball of sweat just before boarding a plane for the next 8 hours, and nor does the person sitting next to me. So I choose to walk. I’m checked in, so they have to give me some sort of grace period. But it is an inconvenience all the same.

Besides, just after you get there, you just know they’re going to switch your designated boarding gate to Gate 82A.

 

12)  Inefficiencies:

I know Health and Safety has gone mad, but seriously, walking onto the tarmac, squeezing into a shuttle bus, and then being ferried 30 metres to the plane is just plain ridiculous. Homophone… nice…

 

13)  Duty Free:

What a rort. Airports now direct disembarking passengers through Duty Free shops as part of the departure process. Yet everything in Duty Free is more expensive than High Street shops. And the oversized Toblerones are so large they come with 50% off vouchers for diabetes treatment. Buy your family a gift BEFORE you get to the airport. Or give them an i-Tunes voucher. Or fuck ‘em. Just don’t buy anything Duty Free.

 

14)  Customs/Immigration:

Where do they find Customs Officers? What is it about their demeanour that causes you to look guilty when they question you and to laugh nervously? And why is it sniffer dogs are infatuated with one’s crotch? Why are we always so relieved once we get the all clear, like we got away with something? Is it them, or is it simply the human psyche? I blame them. It’s easier.

 

15)  Hire Cars:

They never, ever, give you the car that matches the picture when you booked online.  I’m sorry, but a Hyundai Getz does not resemble an Audi R8, not even in dappled light.

 

16)  Currency:

You have no local currency, so you go to the only ATM at the terminal. It swallows your card. Cab drivers only take cash. You start busking. The only song you remember the words to is “The Old Grey Mare”. It is going to be a long night, regardless of how much energy you put into the choreography.

It is time for a world currency. Bitcoins it is! And here I previously thought they would only be useful for getting and/or hiring a hit.

 

17)  Carry-on Nazis:

I’m not referring to one of those bawdy, British films. I’m talking about the stickling carry-on luggage weighers. You know the ones. They make you weigh your carry-on, and it’s always a kilogram over. Your carry-on could be empty and you’ll still be a kilo over, so there’s no point planning in advance. What you’ll end up doing is carrying a book in one hand, your camera in another, and your laptop around your neck as “oversized bling”.  They will then wave you through, even though the net weight is precisely the same. Perplexing system, that one, but irksome nonetheless.

 

18)  Air Conditioning:

Airport climate never matches the climate outside the terminal. It never matches the climate of your intended destination. It never matches the climate on board the plane. It is therefore impossible to turn up at the airport, suitably attired, because airports have their own, fetid ecosystem. You will be shivering, or sweltering. Despite this, airports always seem to produce the perfect living conditions for germs, and germ mutation… This feeds onto my next point.

 

19)  Hygiene:

Airports are cultural melting pots. People from all over this exotic ball of dirt and gas congregate in airports, each one a unique thread that weaves to form the rich tapestry that is our glorious planet, Alderaan. I mean Earth.   However, they also bring together a mix of social habits that allows a little piece of their culture to transfer over to my being, usually causing me to curl up in the foetal position on the toilet floor of my luxury poolside villa for at least the first 3 days of my vacation.

They sneeze without covering their mouths. They toilet without washing their hands. They spit without… well, the fact that they spit at all, says it all.

I don’t know what we can do to fix this, but I’d rather risk illness, than wear a surgical mask throughout my travels. I’m one thing, but I’m no Michael Jackson.

 

20)  Travelator:

Nothing gets my goat (aside from goat poachers) more than people who stand stock still on travelators, blocking the way. Move aside. You’re not fucking Gandalf!

It’s also not a magic carpet ride. It is designed to hasten ambulatory rapidity, not to act as a substitute for walking. Maybe I’m being harsh, and some people really do wish to take in all of the sights that Murmansk Airport has to offer (ooh, Salt Mine Tours!). If that is the case, then by all means run two parallel travelators. A walky one. And a standy one. But until that day, get the fuck out of my way! Sprinting on travelators is the only time the words “Fun” and “Run” should go together. Travelators make me feel like I’m Usain Bolt. Until the jarring deceleration at the end brings me back to the realisation that I’m more like Hurley from Lost.

So there you go Airports. The ball is in your court. If you could fix only one, I’d say you weren’t trying…

(*Disclaimer: I travel First/Business class and have a PA, so some of these gripes may or may not apply to my actual travel experience now, but even I did fly economy once upon a time!)