Dear Southern Man,

Look at you with your pressed button-down shirt and gelled gray hair. You’re on a mission tonight, I see. And while you’re feeling fancy, you ask for my expert wine advice. After all, I’m a server, I should know. And, you figure, we can talk connoisseur-to-connoisseur; a wry nod to tell me, “I speak you’re language, server. I’m in the know, too.”

Not so deep down I know better-I know what you want. But, let’s do that dance. “Well, now, what are you in the mood for tonight; perhaps we can pare something with your meal?” Hey, then! A surprise! You want something “not too dry.” Ah, such parlance; your’re clearly in the know. Did you pick that sophisticated lingo up in Alsace? Tuscany? I see now there’s no fooling you. So, then, Billy Bob, let me tell you about our fine not-to-dry-wines…

..Ah, ah, of course, whites only. We do have a wonderful Pino Grigio which is all the rave among those in the know. Oh, No? Alright, then, how about this delicate, not very oaky, slightly fruit forward chardonnay? Oh, I see, not in the mood for a chard tonight? Well, then, I do have a bold and uncharacteristic Sauv Blanc, not as dry as most, with hints of melon and pineapple… Hello? You’ve gone blank, man. Need to bring you back. How ’bout a traditional Riesling? You’re bound to love that! Crisp and fruity with… Your puzzled eyes tell me you haven’t a clue what I’m talking about.

I know. I fucking knew from the start, and so did you, for that matter. You’re a fucking hilljack Southern Man in fancy pants. Why did we play this vino game? Why don’t you just say what you want? I have 98 wines, man, NINETY-EIGHT FUCKING WINES. And only one of them is the kind you want, and both you and I know which one it is. That’s right, we don’t even offer a selection for your kind. We have only one, and it’s cheap, and it’s our best seller, and you order it every damn time. Because rubes like you don’t know a pinot gris from a Sangria. WHITE FUCKING ZINFANDEL, right? Oh, shit, I nailed it, huh? That’s the one? I’m psychic, right? Your face lights up, oh happiness! You look so pleased when I pour it. The thrill only intensifies as I agree to bring you a glass of ice on the side.

Hey, shithead, I suggest the pasta… Yes, you can split it.