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Edinburgh, Scotland: Ballad of Little D

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Chief,

I used some miles to upgrade to business class on the flight over here thinking I might cop a few z's and arrive in Europe fresh. The only problem with this plan is my notorious penchant to abuse open bars. I am older and wiser now, so I thought I discretion might rule the day. I was doing fine until my plan was thwarted by the young gentleman from Texas in the seat next to me. "Little D" we'll call him. He's coming over to Scotland with his dad, Big D--think Big & Little Enos from "Smokey & the Bandit" minus the matching sky blue outfits and you've got an idea what I'm talking about. Little D runs about 6'4", 250 and was excited as hell to be on this, his first, trip overseas. I was about to plug in my Al Green's Greatest Hits and eat an
Ambien, but Little D's enthusiasm was contagious. I kept the sleeping pill in my pocket. Besides, Texans don't like to drink alone and can get pretty insistent about it.

And drink we did. Little D could not believe the flight attendants kept bringing him cocktails. "Any kind you want, and free too!" he exclaimed. Long story short, I stayed up all night talking Dallas Cowboys and about his trip.

"Dad," Little D said, "is over here to trace our ancestry. Some kind of crazy quest to trace our family roots back to Jesus or something." Little D, on the other hand, was coming over to drink and find the phone booth from "Local Hero." And, as president of his local Scotch Club, he has all kinds of "tight" connections with the various distilleries. Big and Little D have rented a car for their various purposes and by the time we landed at Heathrow, I had been invited along for a few days. I gave my hotel info to Little D at Customs and figured I'd never see him again. I then went to my hotel and crawled inside a 12-hour hangover only to be awakened this morning by Little D's hearty roar that the "War wagon is on the way!" I'm to meet them in the lobby in half an hour.

Have I ever told you how much I hate Scotch?

Let's just hope they rented a Cadillac so I can pass out in the backseat.

I'll report in when I can.

Tony Perez-Giese, International Hangover Victim



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