On Saturday April 19th 2008 I embarked on a mission to summon the ever elusive Green Fairy of the alcohol world. I looked online and found my local Bevmo sold Absinthe. In case you’ve never heard of this liquor you may click here for some nifty info. In 2007 Absinthe became legal again in the U.S. In 2008 Alfonso decided to buy a bottle.

The first thing I noticed was that Absinthe smells like herbal black licorice but the bottle looks nice perched atop any piece of furniture.

It was the night of a friends going away party and I had important research to do: What mixes with Absinthe? The short answer would be: NOTHING.

So it was decided that swigs, shots and sips would be the way to go.

If anyone reading this is curious as to why nothing mixes with Absinthe? It’s because unlike any other alcohol you may have tried in your life Absinthe lingers. The taste is so horrid and potent you almost want to spit it out. Although it doesn’t burn like Bacardi 151 does, it makes you feel quite literally like someone numbed your entire face. This numb feeling may be attributed to it’s sedative properties.

The night begins with shots at my house and a failed attempt to mix Absinthe with Champagne(Hemingway Style) that ends up both smelling and tasting like fart.

What happened at the party is irrelevant. What happened after that party is the stuff that speaks volumes for what kind of drunk I am, especially under the influence of (presumably) hallucinogenic alcohol.

In all honesty I didn’t just consume Absinthe that night because it’s so gross the thought alone of that being the only option is enough to make me gag. There was beer, wine, and if I remember correctly someone traded me a swig of Rum for some Absinthe.

Anyhow, a few friends and I went back to my house to continue drinking, talk and listen to music. The night progressed, people came and went, empty bottles began to decorate the dining room table and suddenly I found myself sitting alone on my couch staring into space. It is at this particular point in time that I felt the full effects of the evenings alcohol. I was indeed as the Absinthe bottle suggest – Lucid. Not drunk, not off balance, but clear headed….really clear headed. I thought about this new sensation for a minute I stopped and looked around for the green fairy then an idea came to me – I needed closure.

“I want to break a guitar” I said.

When I was in high school all I wanted to do was well, Rock. Yes, I wanted to be a musician, rockstar, cultural icon, etc. Obviously since I had to pay for that bottle of Absinthe and I am sitting at home drinking it those dreams never quite came true. I have 4 guitars laying around and I knew at that very moment that by the end of this night there’d only be 3.

I bolted for my room to rummage through my closet for my very first guitar a Squire Stratocaster that I gutted and installed a Seymour Duncan Pick up on. I looked at it one last time and headed for the front door.

My friends all disagreed with this idea noting the sentimental value of the guitar as reason not to destroy it. I argued that was Thee reason to destroy it.

I could not allow myself to be talked out of this, let alone held back. Tonight a guitar would be broken and dreams would be laid to rest.

After about 5 minutes of resistance from those around me I made it outside and David followed me with a camera.

If you would be so kind as to look directly to the left of my raised hand you will see the small blur that is my guitar in flight.

Why didn’t I just traditionally break a guitar, against the floor?
I tried, but the impact of the guitar hitting solid concrete sent a rather painful wave of shock up my arm. I would’ve made a lousy Rockstar.

After about five minutes a maniacal laughter, 4 Guitar tosses and a splintered palm I had accomplished my goal. I had broken a guitar.

I dragged the instrument back inside, but no one seemed as interested anymore as they were when I was trying to get them to let me break it. In fact I clearly remember going unnoticed.

So did I see the infamous green fairy of alcohol folklore? No. Is Absinthe worth a try? Hell No unless you enjoy dipping your black licorice in Jager, but it is a different kind of drunk. In the end I found closure at 4am on a cool and quiet Spring morning at the intersection of Kewen and Goleta, surrounded by an audience comprised of my neighbors dogs and cats I became Rock n’ Roll incarnate.