They walked the block and a half to get to the wine tasting, and stopped outside the door. Kurt took a deep breath.
"Look you two. I love you dearly, I really really do. But if you embarrass me, or ruin my one classy night in any way shape or form, I will garrote you both. Understand?"
Puck nodded and tried to look adult until Kurt turned around. Then he turned to Artie.
"Dude what does gaar-ot* mean?"
"I have no idea. I think it's French though, so it can't be that bad right?"
Walking into the venue, Kurt suddenly turned into Mr. Confidence as he strutted toward the guest book. Artie and Puck turned into small children in a candy store, staring up the glass ceiling and at the tables with glasses on them.
"Follow me. Hello? Artie. Artie! Hey. Hi. Follow me, you two." Kurt brought the two back to earth as he followed a guy in a suit to their three person table.
"Here's your table, Mr. Hummel." The guy in the suit looked just out a college, and had super straight, super white teeth that all showed when he smiled. Puck wanted to punch him in the face.
"I said call me Kurt! But thanks so much Brian." Kurt's smile was equal dazzling but less infuriating.
Artie leaned across the table toward Kurt. "What was that?"
"That was getting our table upgraded, Artie. Just because I was desperately seeing thing that just weren't there in Lima doesn't mean I have no gaydar at all. Puck, put your napkin on your lap."
"But it looks like a swan! I don't want to mess it up, that probably took someone forever."
"It actually doesn't take that long. My mom used to be a waitress in college, she still folds napkins like this for Easter Dinners. She can do like twenty in ten minutes." Artie offered as a consolation as he pulled the video camera out of the bag to set on the table. "Here, show it to me before you unfold it."
Puck did, then set it on his lap like Kurt told him to. Artie fiddled with the camera until it was placed in such a way that everyone was caught on film. Puck stuck his tongue out at the camera. Kurt kicked him under the table.
"Wait, so Kurt. How does a wine tasting work?" Artie suddenly realized he didn't know why there was an empty ice bucket in front or him, or thirty glasses on their table, or why their was a microphone set up like their would be doing a commentary on the event.
Artie stopped to think what that commentary would be like. "Annnnd over there at table five they're drinking the pino noir, looks like they're enjoying the sweet flavor, But at table eight it looks like that tall girl is getting a bit tipsy. I remind you all to be gentlemen."
"Dude, we just drink wine. How hard can it be?" Puck was munching on some cheese and gesturing at Artie with a toothpick to get his attention.
Kurt caught his arm and held to the table with surprising force. His next sentences came out through clenched teeth.
"It isn't hard if you know the rules which clearly you do not. So let me explain to you. First of all, you don't drink wine. You taste it. The connoisseur will tell you what the wine is called, the waiter will come over and pour you some wine. You will sip it and hold it in your mouth, swishing it around to get the full taste. Then you spit it out into the bucket…"
"What?" Puck and Artie had been paying close attention. Up until that last bit, everything had sounded weird, but sort of understandable. But that.
"You want me to spit out perfectly good alcohol? What are you, crazy?" This was completely out side of the realm of anything that Puck understood.
"The point of a wine tasting is not to get drunk, it is to appreciate all the different flavors! If you drank a glass of every whine you tasted, you'd be too tipsy after like the fourth glass to judge the other six!"
"Maybe you would be," smirked Puck, "But I think I could handle it."
"Whatever Puck. See that card next to you with the pencil on it, Artie? You rate each wine from 1-10 on it, and when we've tasted each wine you get a glass of your favorite. You can drink that one." Kurt glared at Puck.
"Alright ladies and gentlemen, I think its about time to start out tasting. Our servers are now bringing out a 1942.….."
Please don't let them embarrass me, thought Kurt.
Please don't let me embarrass myself, thought Artie, Or Kurt.
Where's my freaking booze, thought Puck.
*So no one is forced onto google, garrote means to strangle/behead someone with a wire. Kurt's serious about his classy night. It's a good buzz word though, and Artie's right, the etymology is French.
-Thanks for so many story alerts/favorites! I'd love a few more reviews though *hint hint*