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I ordered a double for my good friend's cousin who told me he just turned 21 when we were at a restaurant and my friend was in the restroom. When my friend returned to the table, he admitted his cousin had turned 21 eight months earlier.
The drinks arrived at the table. My friend's cousin tasted his whisky and made a horrible face, saying it tasted like "bleach." He kept carrying on and acting like a complete idiot. I asked to taste the Elmer T Lee. It was delicious, just fantastic for the price.
The cousin kept complaining bitterly. Finally he added two packets of sugar and filled his glass to the brim with water. It was painful to see such a nice whisky get ruined like that. Even after he ruined it, he kept complaining and carrying on like a child about how much he hated it, making faces, wincing, and frowning.
Later, after dinner, I asked my good friend if his cousin was autistic. I'm a college professor, and the kid's behavior reminded me of some students I've taught in the past that were diagnosed professionally. "Very good," my friend said.
I'm not sure if the kid is genuinely autistic or just lacking in social graces. Either way, it's not my friend's fault, and it's certainly not the whisky's fault. I liked the Elmer T Lee very much and wished I had thought to offer to trade the boy for a foofy fruity drink thta I could have ordered, so that I could rescue the delicious bourbon from his clutches. A double, at that.
Oh well, these things happen. The taste that I had of the Elmer T Lee reminded me of just how much I like it. What a great whisky for the price. And, no, it tastes nothing like bleach.