Coronavirus? I’d Rather Have a Scotch By Ryan Erker
Its been a while since I have made a blog post. I apologize immensely. I promise it is not due to a lack of interest.
I have been quite busy staying one step ahead of the daily nonsense that is prison life. I keep a fairly tight schedule with various programs that hopefully keep guys from coming back to prison. So far I have only two failures out of many years of counsel. I consider that a good success rate. Sometimes folks have a double dose of the knucklehead and are just more comfortable in prison.
As for me, my comfort level is directly correlated to the number of books to which I have access, a comfortable leather wingback chair, roaring fire, and a glass of 40 year old Scotch. If you have guessed I have not been comfortable for quite a while, you would be correct.
One thought does keep me focused however. Almost 19 years ago, when the interweb was still fairly new, I was looking for a particular bottle of Scotch to purchase for my Father. Low and behold, I came across a store in San Franciso aptly named The Whisky Shoppe, which was quite possibly the most wonderful store in the World. I would like to believe that it is still in existence. Anyway, I found the bottle I was looking for. The famous McCallan Grand Reserva. I immediately called, whipped out my American Express Card and had it shipped. Aside from the ridiculous price tag, it was everything I hoped it would be. It was shipped in its own small crate. Straw protected the golden nectar of the Gods within, glowing with perfection. I wanted to open it right then and there but I resisted my desire and wrapped it up, because after all, I would like to think I am a good son (prison sentence aside). Long story short, my gift was extremely well received. The bottle was carefully laid in a place of honor in a big safe and there it sits to this day, awaiting a time for my Father and I to finely open it and toast each other to good health.
Ten years after I purchased the bottle, I was in New York at the 21 Club in Manhattan. I was looking over their Scotch Menu and low and behold, I saw that for three times the price of what I paid for the bottle of Grand Reserva, I could have the chance to actually have a glass of this masterpiece! It took me all of two seconds to determine that this was a sign from God that he loved me and wanted me to be happy. I declared which Spirit I would be choosing, which delighted the Scotch Captain, whom receives commissions from the guest selection, and awaited the delivery of what undoubtedly would be the best Scotch of my life. It was. I was not let down. My palate danced with joy at the first sip. The World would never be the same.
So this is what waits for me when I get released from prison. A glass of miracles in a glass, sitting on the deck with my Father watching the Wenatchee River role by. I can not think of a more perfect ending to all of this absurdity.
By Ryan Erker
Ryan Erker 390480
PO Box 888
Monroe Wa. 98272
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