Finally got to see Sideways on VHS yesterday, the wine parts were accurate.
I've been in tasting rooms where wine geek speak prevails, malo, ph levels,
awards from the Calabasses County Fair on the part of the pourer and the
taster naming everything from the pantry in describing the taste & smell.

Having been on three trips to wine country with friends. I can attest that
if there is one car and two separate personal agendas, you're going to have
what in Brooklyn we called "agita". In the movie that's what you had with
Milo and his horny friend. I was always more interested in food than my
companions were so I had to compromise to keep things pleasant. I do recall
devouring the buffet style dessert cart at a Domain Chandon lunch, an event
which my gossipy "friend" was sure to tell all on our return. Luckily, in
those days I drank much too much and so I don't recall if I ate the whole
cart or just a good portion of it.

Something about wine country loosens the libido and I occasionally met
married friends on the wine trial who had very attractive staff assistants
with them. It could be uncomfortable when you ran into the wife and she
said, I heard you met ---- when you where in Sonoma.

I began touring California wine country in 1979 so I met a lot of people
who'd I never would meet today. Leon Adams, Milton Eisele, Eleanor McCrea,
Charlie Wagner, Dave Bennion, Mike Grgrch, Nils Venge, Travis Fretter, David
Stare, Merry Edwards, Joe Swan and Warren Winiarski. The secret of my
access was that at the time I was an FOB-Friend of Bob(Parker) but it
backfired on me at Stags Leap, where I lunched with some Dallas merchants.
They were critical of the non-coverage Winiarski was getting from Parker and
so Winiarski pointed to me and said "Ask him", "he's the man's buddy." I
did get out alive with some lame explanation that Parker would rather not
give a negative review to a legend like Warren and that was why he hadn't
reviewed the so 1976's and 77's that the Texans had to sell.

I generally avoided romance on the road, basically because I was shy and
burnt-out. I did have a friend in Oakland who went with me once or twice
but she was bored in wine country, which in the late 70's and early 80's was
pretty dead. The few times I thought some lady actually talked to me about
more than ph levels, I ignored it, preferring to focus on my agenda.
However, the movie did imitate my life.

On a solo trip, I had an appointment with a high flying winery with an
industrialist owner, the women who took me around with a bunch of Bay Area
wine salespeople and ringers, kept finding excuses to ask me about my
business and opinions. She booked me for dinner at Mustards as it was hard
to get into. About 4 PM I was back in my room at the El Bonita when the
front desk told me I had a message. Sure enough it was the tour director
inviting me to dinner with her boss at the winery owner and some winery
workers in honour of Cinco de Mayo. I accepted of course. For the first
part of the evening I was seated with some ladies from shipping as the food
was served buffet style. The pr lady kept talking to me from her end of the
table. Then additional food was brought out, still no owner, and I saw the
pr lady say something in Spanish to the lady on my left and when I sat back
down the pr lady was next to me asking me all sorts of personal questions
and complimenting me on either my speech or palate. Now at the time I
weighed over 250 pounds, was short, had a scraggily beard, long hair and
sweated profusely. The lady in question was attractive, so I couldn't
understand in my cholesterol besotted mind, what this lady was after. Uncle
Bob always favored this winery's output. I must confess that even with all
the wine in me, I had a frame of reference for this behavior, for when I was
clean shaven and thinner I was trying be a union leader and since I could be
useful to a ladies career, I was flirted with and seduced on many occasions.
Now that I had flamed out as the next Walter Ruether mainly because my
zipper seemed permanently opened, I was just a bloated hulk with a blotchy
face. Sometime between the carne and the sopapillas, my new friend slipped
me a note with a place for us to meet later. She said _____ was a small
town and her co-workers didn't need to know her business. So we met and I
followed her to her modest home. There I met her kids and as I sobered up,
we played Trivial Pursuit with the kids and she walked me to my car and gave
me a long deep kiss. She called me just out of my cold shower and we
arranged to meet in a few days in San Francisco at a restaurant owned by her
managing director. I arrived for dinner and lo and behold there was her
kids and mother. The managing director had comped us on the meal and I took
care of the tip and I drove them back to their hotel the Hyatt. By now my
id was in full throttle but as my friend opened the door there was a not a
suite or any private area and the kids were cranky, so I split for my
Burlingame motel but not until after another deep kiss and a little touchy
feely.

The next evening her ex-husband was coming to the Hyatt to take the kids to
his home in the area. I was to wait in the lobby to be called when the
coast was clear. I stayed there for an hour or so and rang the room, no
answer and finally at about 10 PM with a morning flight home I dragged my
self to Burlingame. About 11:30 she called and I was already pretty blotto,
she insisted I come back to the Hyatt, I think I belched. She said she'd
take a cab over, I said my body had retired for the evening.

I wrote a few times and telephoned once but I missed the moment. At least
in the movie Miles at the end was knocking on Maya's door.

--
Joseph B. Rosenberg