black day on vodka
The party I described yesterday was an enjoyable experience at the time, but the most I’ve ever drunk since was the time five years ago I took a bottle of Smirnoff Black Label vodka to a party to share. Almost no-one else liked it, but I found it actually had a real taste, a different animal to standard vodka, even Smirnoff’s own. Black Label is Smirnoff’s top brand; bloody expensive, distilled in Moscow, a favourite of Bond baddies, and (in my limited experience) a great vodka for drinking neat and cold.
Over three hours I drank somewhere between half and two-thirds of the bottle, not realizing it because I didn’t get drunk in the conventional sense. It wasn’t even the kind of drunkenness described by Billy Connolly, where you get drunk from the waist down – I remember walking home as if I hadn’t drunk anything, and there was barely a hangover. No, the only major effect was a week looking yellow and feeling jaundiced, since the vodka had clearly gone straight to my liver. Not a major problem at the time, but I don’t need to be told that repeating it would be inadvisable. I did find another bottle of Black Label here in Ireland, a couple of years ago, but it lasted six months in the freezer.