I had long since given up on the possibility of finding the elusive crystal skull of vodka at my local liquor store. I had buried the resentment I felt that vodka made in Newfoundland was unobtainable just one province away. I had overcome my bitterness that Dan Ackroyd, Canadian Dan Ackroyd, had not stepped up to ensure that this product with which he was associated, was readily available to all of his fellow countrymen.
And then I walked into the liquor store in Digby.
I found myself in Digby on a recent fall weekend road trip. And as on any road trip, a visit to the local liquor store is an absolute necessity. When I saw the display standing prominently in the centre of the store, I was surprised. But merely assumed that it was finally being made more widely available. Not so, said the clerk. This vodka would not be found at any other liquor store in the region. It was obtained specifically for this location. So what makes Digby special? The occasion, each Labour Day weekend, of the Wharf Rat Rally. Apparently there's nothing bikers love more than crystal skulls of vodka, and a supply is ordered especially for the event. I suppose I should feel fortunate that there was some stock left over.
And now, I am gradually working on emptying my new possession. Nothing quenches the remnants of bitterness and resentment like vodka from a skull-shaped bottle.
All is forgiven, Mr. Ackroyd.
And then I walked into the liquor store in Digby.
I found myself in Digby on a recent fall weekend road trip. And as on any road trip, a visit to the local liquor store is an absolute necessity. When I saw the display standing prominently in the centre of the store, I was surprised. But merely assumed that it was finally being made more widely available. Not so, said the clerk. This vodka would not be found at any other liquor store in the region. It was obtained specifically for this location. So what makes Digby special? The occasion, each Labour Day weekend, of the Wharf Rat Rally. Apparently there's nothing bikers love more than crystal skulls of vodka, and a supply is ordered especially for the event. I suppose I should feel fortunate that there was some stock left over.
And now, I am gradually working on emptying my new possession. Nothing quenches the remnants of bitterness and resentment like vodka from a skull-shaped bottle.
All is forgiven, Mr. Ackroyd.