So this is really hard for me to write about. I know I come off as very sarcastic and flippant but I’ve actually been through some very tough times in my life. I decided to share this story because I know there will be those reading this who can relate. If I can help even one person than it was worth me writing this.
A while back I was on my way to a hair appointment. My hairdresser and I have been friends for over 10 years so I usually come in after hours with a bottle of wine. We drink and gossip while she does my hair and it’s always a good time. On this particular day I got to the salon around 7pm and headed straight for their back room (where I keep a stash of wine glasses) and reached into my shoulder bag for the wine. It’s hard to remember anything after that because I blacked out. Looking back I’ve been able to piece together what likely happened. In the past I always brought twist top bottles to the salon but on this particular occasion it appears the bottle was corked. I did not have a corkscrew. I was (quite literally) screwed!
It’s hard for me to articulate how I felt in that moment. Hopeless, afraid and very very thirsty. There were a million thoughts racing through my mind. I thought about the bottles in my wine rack at home, the one hidden away for a rainy day and all the hopes and dreams I had for the wine I would drink in the future. The thought of not enjoying a case of the purple teeth or cotton mouth was almost too much to bear. In a split second my life was changed forever. I honestly did not know if I would ever be able to open the wine. How would I account for my lack of decorum, sailor mouth or “forgetting” my wallet?!
After the initial shock wore off and I began to come to my friend and I knew we had to think fast. Neither of us knew for sure what would happen if we weren’t able to open the wine. Would we be…sober?? The very thought was, well, sobering. We thought about trying to break off the top of the bottle (can you saber wine like champagne?) we even tried using a pair of scissors to pry the cork out. At one point I almost gave up, the only thing that kept me going was knowing the vintage of that particular bottle was very rare and I might not ever be able to find it again. Plus, I was still extremely thirsty.
What happened next can only be described as divine intervention or complete idiocy. I found a thin serrated knife and was able to pound it through the top of the cork. Next my friend and I took turns alternating between carefully turning the cork and pulling, turning and pulling. (I haven’t broken a sweat like that since I cancelled my gym membership. Their AC was out.) A one point it appeared we had succeeded and the cork seemed to be coming loose. Alas a piece, maybe a quarter of an inch thick, was still stuck at the base of the bottles neck. I mustered up every last bit of strength I had and rammed the knife into the neck of the bottle. I was almost afraid to look but when I finally mustered up the courage I realized we had done it! I was more proud in that moment than the day I squeezed into a pair of size 25 jeans after a week-long stomach flu.
If you or somebody you know is up a creek without a screw (is that how you say that??) good luck!