Shortbread, Shout-outs, and Short-term Memory Loss
I can’t remember the thing I was going to write about.
It was really funny, too. I thought of it last Thursday, or maybe Friday, and I thought, “Hahaha! That’s so ridiculously funny that I have to put it my next week’s blog lest I be smote by the gods of comedy for my negligence.” So I’m expecting hilarious thunderbolts to start dropping from the sky any minute now, because I can’t, for the life of me, remember what it was.
Bah. Anyway, I tried whiskey. Which is kind of a big deal (emphasis on kind of) because I don’t drink. Not that I consider having a taste of whiskey during a whiskey tour to be drinking in the normal sense, but still. Not really something I thought would happen. It was sort of stupid how it happened. My friend had come over from Dublin (Hi, Brian) and we decided to go on a tour of the Scotch Whiskey Experience. It was a bit bizarre, because it starts off with you sitting in big barrel-shaped carts on a track. And you go along this track in your barrel while a projection of some guy pretending to be some old dead guy (whom I can only assume was Mr. Scotch Whiskey Experience), and he’s telling you about all the different steps that go into making whiskey. It’s actually quite interesting. Never expected it was such a complex process. A surprising amount of ingenuity and development has gone into refining the whiskey-making process, over the years.
But anyway, the stupid part: it was only about halfway through this, sitting in our barrel, that a deep and profound epiphany struck me.
If we’re on a whiskey tour, they’re probably going to give us whiskey to taste, aren’t they?
For whatever reason, whatever ridiculous reason, that had somehow escaped me. So here I was, stuck sitting in the Simpson’s version of the Disney World teacups, barreling–you’re welcome, Jake–towards the end of my alcoholic abstinence. The entire thought process went something like this:
Also me: Eh, what the heck.
Now, I know I could have declined the drink. And I wouldn’t have felt bad about doing so; I’m far too arrogant to give in to peer pressure on something like this. But I figured I might as well try it. So I did and that was kind of all that happened. The end.
Oh, and my friend and I also went to a place called Camera Obscura. It’s right next to the castle, and it’s the trippiest place in the world. It’s a house full of optical illusions, from basic 3-d stuff to mirror mazes to holograms. Seriously messes with your mind. Especially the vortex tunnel. At least I think that’s what it’s called. I don’t know if that’s the generic name for it, or just the one they had there. But anyway, there’s a platform running through a tunnel that’s spinning around you. The platform is suspended a bit, like this:
Okay, never mind. I just tried to do some sort of ascii thing, but I failed miserably. The point is, there’s a platform running through the center of a spinning tunnel, and it seriously screws up your balance. It feels like you’re falling over the whole time. Not a thing to do if you’re full.
It was great. We did it three times. Afterwards, the person at the front desk suggested walking with our arms folded to make ourselves even dizzier. We did that no times.
Alright, yes, google “vortex tunnel.” I’ve just tried it and it brings up exactly what I’m talking about.
Oh, and I mentioned it in my first post (I think), but the Tartan Stag is the best place in Edinburgh. Weirdest thing is, it apparently only opened in last November. But the couple running it are the nicest people in the entire world. They keep foisting free short bread on me. Delicious shortbread. But seriously. Go there if you’re in Edinburgh. If you’re not in Edinburgh, go anyway.
So yeah. Good week, overall. And finally, just because I can: Hi, Emily