Demobilization: Wherein Gus is Mercilessly Teased

I tend to have a lot of friendly acquaintances and a handful of very good friends to whom I'm often excessively loyal. One of the latter is my buddy Gus, whose trip to Scotland I financed so that he could bring some of my stuff. He got about two thirds of a free trip to Scotland, I got a seabag full of stuff, and we both enjoyed one another's company for the duration, until he headed back home to be united with his son, Prince Hank, and impregnate his wife, the lovely and talented St. Jen, with Princess Lucy.

One of the things that Gus did while he was touring around Scotland was to go to the Glen Moray Distillery in Elgin for a tour. (The joke's on him - Ardmore is right there!) At that point, he committed to buying four bottles of whisky... For me to mule back to the States. Uh... ? Wait, what? So, that was a constant action item, with him periodically updating me on the status of his order, which was unavailable for him to carry out then and there. Finally, the order was complete, and he contacted me to let me know. It was only then that I learned the horrible truth: having been led to believe that he expected me to carry back four bottles of special twenty-five-year-old port wood finish whisky, he had, in actuality, ordered only a single bottle of the special twenty-five-year-old port wood finish whisky, a single bottle of sixteen-year-old whisky, and two bottles of twelve-year-old whisky.

Whaaaaaaaat?

My packing space is actually pretty limited, as I've noted - I'll already been unloading a bunch of my stuff in order to get my kit down to one seabag, my Echo Pack, and my carry-ons. Beyond that, it's sort of outlandish to be on the hook for carrying back twelve-year-old whisky - I wouldn't bring back twelve-year-old whisky for the mother of my children (recruitment of suitable candidates pending, please inquire within for details). So, I requested that the order be reduced, and to his great credit, Gus graciously complied. Then, a few weeks ago, in the midst of my graduation, he left the following comment on Facebook:

Don't forget, I have a few bottles waiting in Elgin. Keep calm and sip a good whisky.

Gus, you're killing me. So, I replied with the following retort:

Do I ever forget? Dork.

Good grief. The other elephant in the room, of course, is the whisky I intend to bring back. Dare I say it, I've likely developed more of a taste for whisky than Gus. So, where does that leave us?

I love Gus. He's one of my best friends - one of three or four dudes whose friendship I value equally above all others. So, I'm going to bring the two bottles of whisky, which is beyond gracious of me to do, because when all is said and done, I value his friendship far beyond the minor frustration of him pestering me about whisky. Buuuuuuut, that takes a bit of preparation. So, I've made an effort to figure out how much whisky I'm legally allowed to import. Buuuuuuut, it doesn't stop there.

I have literally begged two pubs for empty whisky bottles so that I can use them for demobilization packing testing. I've purchased a bottle of eighteen-year-old Highland Park for myself, and I received a bottle of eighteen-year-old Ardmore from Constable and Silex as a graduation gift. That accounts for the whisky I'll be bringing home for myself. Beyond that, I have two HP12 empties for when I'm packing to help me figure out how Gus' whisky will fit into the rest of it. I'll still have to leave some room for the stash of books that remain in a locker down the hall from the SOC, but some of those can be mailed.

I'm also going to post the link to this entry on Gus' Facebook page, just to make sure that he and a few other friends see it. The bottom line, though, is that Gus has put up with all sorts of my shenanigans over the years, and what's a slightly heavier bag and some hassle among friends? That's what real friendship is all about... Sort of.

Love you, Gus. See you soon. (Just, please, give me a hug and let me see the baby before asking me to dig in my bag for your whisky, alright? Alright.)