by Kier Graff
The season of good cheer is imminent, threatening gift-giving, warm sentiment and enforced conviviality, and I take the attendant goodwill-mongering quite seriously. For, you see, I carry a flask. And though you can—as I do—tote this alcoholic accoutrement year-round, it perhaps is most apropos as an aid against the leaden skies and bludgeoning winds that are the notable elements of Chicago's picturesque winters.
Indeed, nothing warms the cockles quite so pleasingly as a lip-chapping, tongue-smacking pull from a frigid metal mouthpiece, save another of the same. Pick your poison, and whether it be bourbon, scotch or brandy, you're sure to turn a more cheerful face to the blast; one of alcohol's most pleasing effects at this time of the year is a widening of the capillaries lacing the surface of the skin, producing misleading—but nonetheless real—feelings of warmth. Just think how a ruddy-cheeked, gin-blossomed lush feels!
A flask's benefits aren't confined to a physical sense of well-being, however. There are definite social rewards as well. When I produce my flask in public, the looks on nearby faces light up the room. People move closer, and while I dispense nips I become the center of the soiree. These people may or may not be my real friends, but with a snootful of distillate, who cares? You might be concerned that the thirst of these groupies will cause your flask to run out, but in my experience, few people enjoy deep draughts of rotgut. A little tongue-warmer will revive them, and they don't usually ask for seconds. Often, it's only the novelty of the idea that attracts them.
Should you be feeling the pinch of miserliness, or have been bitten by the tick of poverty, a drinking vessel concealed about your person can allow you to enjoy a fine beverage practically anywhere. No need to stop at bringing the flask to dry events—movie theaters, the legitimate theatre, Little League games and funerals—when you can save a ducat or two at concerts, professional sporting contests, overpriced bars and so on. When your prominent profile won't permit you to boost your bootleg booze to your lips, just purchase a soda or appropriate mixer, sip it partway, and blend your highball under the table or behind your neighbor's seat back.
Yes, a flask's applications are nearly limitless, and soon it's as natural a part of your party clothes as wristwatch, cufflinks and money clip. If you're caught waiting for a bus, or stuck enduring an actor friend's latest one-woman show; whether you're shivering with cold or just want to stave off the shakes, the opportunity to self-medicate is just a hip pocket away.
Should you be swayed by this enthusiastic essay and find yourself choosing a flask for the first time, allow me to suggest a few important considerations. Too many threads on the cap can cut into valued drinking time, and mean the difference between a successful secret swig and getting busted, an embarrassing proposition. Likewise, a cap that is somehow attached to the body of the flask will avoid a tell-tale tinkle should the cap slip through your fingers to the floor. With some brands, losing the cap will no doubt necessitate replacement of the whole bottle.
Size matters, too. My flask holds a mere 4.5 ounces, and for the most part that's been more than sufficient; remember, the goal isn't to get drunk from your flask. That's like serving a party with a six-pack. And, a small flask conceals the best. An 8-ouncer holds a lot of mood-enhancer, but might leave a bulge in your pocket that has everyone assuming you're happy to see them. Consider construction material, too. A "sport" flask (i.e., one made from plastic) is great for hunting and camping, but for social use, be classy and choose stainless steel (or silver if you've got the means). Shiny surfaces can be attractive, but are apt to glint in the light and declare your activity to the room whether you want to share or not. Mine is covered in black leather, affording a protection similar to camouflage face paint on a sniper. I've seen glass flasks, and used them, but the recurring image of an ass full of broken glass keeps me from recommending their use. Make sure you get a funnel for your flask, or the task of filling it will leave you somewhat flustered.
Lastly, a word to the wise. Though you're less likely to get nabbed for nipping from a flask than for staggering around with a 40, Chicago police still look askance at huffing high-proof on the public way. And woe betide the gentleman smuggler caught importing spirits into a bar; some publicans have their own special punishment for cutting out the middleman. Be careful where you show off your impressive new drinking tool.
copyright 1999 New City Communications, Inc.