In addition to finishing my capstone paper that's due this week, I also sit with friends and watch Clemson's football team kick ass. In between these events, though, I am involved in some swashbuckling.
I go to a champagne tasting where sabres are involved.
That's correct: Sabres are used to open some of the bottles. Several people, both employees and customers, under supervision, of course, are ushered out to the parking lot to open bottles of champagne using swords. It takes a few tries, but eventually the corks go flying and the champagne bursts out like fountains.
What's strange about this whole sabre-opening technique is that in addition to making missiles out of the corks, it also shears of the top of the bottle ... cleanly. So we pour and we drink from the sabre-sheared champagne bottles. Glass shards, be damned (there are none, by the way).
I'm not going to lie. Knowing we killed those bottles before we ... um .. killed those bottles made this some of the best champagne I've ever tasted. Okay, to be fair, some of the sabre-sheared bottles were just plain old sparkling wine and Brut, and some of them were the real champagne deal. My wallet may recognize the differences between these wines, but my palate is not so discerning.
When I go back to work and am asked how I spent my break, it'll be fun to say with all honesty and a perfectly straight face, "Swashbuckling," and mean it with all of my bubbly heart.
