As many of you know, I live in the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania.  Like most places, there are certainly a lot of advantages to living here: relatively affordable, geographically well situated on the East Coast, a vibrant cycling community, great restaurants, cradle of liberty, etc. (OK, that last one was just thrown in there to see if you were awake).  Also like most places there are some disadvantages: the heat and the humidity in the summer, the public schools (at least in Philadelphia), being soooo close to New Jersey, etc. (no, the last one was not to test your relative state of awareness–I’m not a big fan of the ‘Garden State’).  By far, though, the worst part about living here is the abysmal state run liquor stores: The Pennsylvania Liquor Control Board (the PLCB).

I do not know where to start with the PLCB (the largest single purchaser of wine in the US and second in the world–I think the Province of Ontario beats us out–leave it to the PLCB to lose to Canadians), so I guess I will start with my most recent experience.  The other night, the PLCB put on their 11th annual Philadelphia Wine Festival where they have hundreds of wineries represented, pouring their wares for anyone willing to cough up $125 (or $225 for the ‘VIP’) for admission.  It is a pretty big event and the proceeds (at least some) go to the Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia (CHOP), my lovely wife’s employer.  I went a few years ago, and let’s just say that after that event, I swore if I ever went to another such tasting, I would SPIT–yes I was in a very  bad way that night, something my wife does not ever let slip an opportunity to bring up.  This year, my wife got a call from one of the PR people at CHOP, and they asked her if she knew of anyone willing to volunteer for the event in exchange for free admission.  I think she laughed–did she know anyone who wanted to taste a lot of free (and in some cases, expensive) wine for an hour and a half of work before hand?  No, I know she laughed.

If you have not caught on yet, she laughed because she is married to me–a guy who loves wine.  In fact, the only thing I love more than wine (excluding the family, of course) is free wine.  Did she know of anyone who would want to go?  Uh, maybe, let me think….

Much to my surprise, she also ‘offered’ to go with me to the event.  Then I thought about it for 37 seconds and it was not all that surprising she wanted to go.  There would be people from CHOP there, and some might know me by way of my spouse.  If I forgot my pledge to SPIT, well, it could get really ugly really quickly.  Anybody would want to avoid that.  It also would be fun–she is a great tasting buddy.

I am going to write another piece on the event one of these days, so I will not go into it here.  The reason I bring this up is what happened as we were ‘working’ the event.  We were handing out glasses and information when a guy came up to me, and flashed his business card (he did not give me the card, he only showed it to me–yes it was rather weird–I figured they were embossed with 24 carat or something or he was with the FBI) and introduced himself as “Skip Brion, I am the Chairman of the Liquor Control Board”.  I replied “Oh, nice to meet you, I’m a really big fan.”  Alright, so I am a wuss.  A complete and total yellow-bellied wuss.  Clearly, I am not a “big fan” or even “kind of a fan”.  Unless by “fan” you mean that I am hoping that the PLCB spontaneously explodes and all the workers, past and present (except for a few, they know who they are) are forced to live out eternity standing in a never moving line at Walmart customer service, being forced fed de-alcoholized, corked Yellow Tail Sauvignon Blanc and year old, stale, rock hard Cheetos, never being allowed to use the bathroom (yeah, I guess I’m just a little bitter).

“Skip” then asked me a question that even four days later leaves me perplexed or even flummoxed: “I am here with a group of friends.” (He then motioned over to 4-5 people) “Do you have any suggestions as to what I should have them do while they’re here?”

“Skip”

Now “Skip” does not look like the kind of guy that likes to pull the legs of complete strangers (here is his Bio), but I chuckled nonetheless.  Based on his stone faced demeanor, I knew instantly that he was not joking around.  He wanted some suggestions.  I tried not to be flip or sarcastic (very hard for me to do in any circumstance, let alone when I guy serves up a softball like this), but this was going through my head:  “HUH?!? It’s a WINE TASTING!  IT’S a WINE TASTING organized by the PLCB.  You’re the FREAKING CHAIRMAN of the PLCB.  Didn’t you GET the MEMO about your BIGGEST EVENT OF THE YEAR?  Hell, you probably SENT the MEMO about the BIGGEST EVENT OF THE YEAR!!  It’s a WINE TASTING!  What did you tell them to get them here?  Are they expecting Cirque du Soleil or Strippers or something?  It’s a WINE TASTING!!!  Maybe they should all use that WINE GLASS I just gave each of them to, um I dunno, TASTE SOME FREAKIN’ WINE???”

But I didn’t say any of that.  Like I said, I’m a wuss.  I said something like “Make sure to try the Pétrus and I hear they have some good food up there, too.”  (As you probably included in the MEMO you sent out!)

I wish I wasn’t such a wuss.