I'm not a big drinker. No, honest, really, I'm not. I have an occasional glass of wine with a meal, an occasional vodka martini (with smoked salmon or oysters), and an occasional snifter of Grand Marnier after a meal or apart from a meal in classy surroundings such as at the intermission lounge of Symphony Hall in Boston between the Strauss and ( Read more... )

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Decades ago at a lively party composed mostly of teachers at my friend Ted's house, everyone was beyond the point-of-no-return on the direct flight to intoxication. At least as equally tight as all the others, I took it upon myself to walk about, pen and pad in hand, pretending to take down names ( Read more... )