The Green Fairy, PT 2

Like an iceberg caught in the gulf current, the slow persistence the dripping water rendered the sugar tablet down to nothing. The once deep green liquor now a milky white as the sugar and water dilute it’s potency. The ritual demands that the proper dosage for absinth should be one part liquor to 5 parts iced water. Make the drink any stronger and you are inviting a pilgrimage to pray at the feet of the porcelain god.

Sugar now gone and glasses full, the pouring ritual is complete. Taking our glasses we stop and admire how they look in the low light. The liquid inside is an eerie pale green, like a potion used by Dr Jekyll himself. We hold them up for the toast, the first of many, “To art and the lust to create it” I say as we clink glasses.

Now is the moment of truth. It is one thing to pour the drink, another to partake in it. No turning back now, partake the drug and forever be changed.

As I bring the glass up to my nose my first impression is the smell. Like black licorice or sweet clove cigarettes. I take a slow small sip, my brain working overtime to catalog every moment as the flavors spill across my palate. First impression, bit like drinking diluted Nyquil. That same foul sweet licorice taste. Not bad mind you, but strong and very present. My taste buds reel and blink madly as they process the flavor. I can feel my lips tingle ever so slightly, by the end of the night they will feel as if I had been kissing for hours, slightly numb and tingly.

A small camera runs silently in the corner. We chose to document this event, to capture the grand brilliance that would come while under the spell of the drug? Perhaps. Either that or we were going to do our own version of the Blair Witch Project, “Two lovers set out one evening to drink absinthe together and were never seen again, only this tape was found…”

We giggle and chat as we sip our drinks. Trying to gauge the effect of the drug is hard, are we feeling light headed due to the drug or is it just our mutual attraction? Glasses now empty, we kiss. I can taste the drug on her lips, it’s flavor mixing with the unique taste that is Dancer’s. We both agree that our lips feel odd, like perhaps they have been inflated with a bit too much air.

An hour has passed since we first opened the bottle, time now for another round. All told we will repeat the pouring ritual 3 more times.

The poring takes a bit more focus this time; the fine motor sills are obviously impacted by the alcohol. Slowed yes, but not such that we are clumsy drunk. Quite the opposite really, relaxed and animated would be a better description. We talk about all manner of things, telling stories and confessing secrets. I would later describe this to Tambo like this, “It is like being stoned, you are talkative and your thoughts are very fluid. However unlike pot where you can’t really remember what you said 2 seconds ago, there is great clarity to your thoughts”

At no point were we so enraptured by the drug that we set about with quill and paper to write some fevered tale nor did we ever hallucinate. Quite the contrary in fact, we were most content to share ideas and talk about all manner of things. Many a fantasy was shared that night.

Armed with the camera and the remains of our fourth and final glass, we retreat to her bedchambers.

What happened next you ask? Well that, dear reader, is a story for another day.