Big Thanks to the Gang at Drug City and the 200 Whiskey Aficionados

Big thanks to the gang at Drug City in Dundalk for hosting another Meet and Greet in their very tasteful tasting room, cleverly concealed behind a hidden door at the top of an ancient flight of rickety stairs. And an even bigger thanks to the 200 whiskey aficionados who climbed the aforementioned rickety stairs and grabbed a photo with yours truly, along with a signed bottle of Knobel Tennessee Whiskey. I was humbled, as always, by your presence, as well as your presents. Consider this cross-stitch from Amanda. Seriously, zoom and look closely at her handiwork. It’s almost like a photo. Amanda, aside from being a talented cross-stitcher, is a chemist. And a waitress. She told me that cross-stitching was cool again, and very relaxing. Maybe I’ll try it one day? But probably not, as I am not that cool.

Amy Cleaver wanted me to know we might be related. She brought a photo that featured a man she claimed was her Uncle Joe Hergenrather, who also happened to be my second cousin of mine, God rest his soul. Which I guess would make me and Amy third cousins? Not that I doubted her, but after stopping by my parent’s place and consulting the extensive genealogical tome comprised by my Aunt Betty, carefully tracing all of the Hergenrather’s who have walked around over the last few hundred years, it appears Amy was telling the truth. We are in fact related. Proving once again, you really never know who you’re going to run into at a whiskey bottle signing.

Speaking of which, get a load of Gabe Brooks. Gabe is a former undercover cop in Baltimore who now works for the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms. I know this because he gave me an ATF Challenge Coin, and promised to make sure Knobel was properly registered. (It is.) He also told me he was the middle child in a trio of triplets, (what other kind of trio is there?) whose father was an Army Ranger and whose mother was former Nun. (I assume “former” because I don’t think Nuns have triplets, but I could be wrong.)

And then there was Bill Pearce. Bill wanted to know if I’d received the package he’d sent to my office in California that contained “the book about the Polo Guy, the Sagamore Rye, and The Old Bay Hot Sauce.” Before I could answer that I had, he assured me that he was “not a stalker, but rather, “a professional pilot and creative dyslexic who enjoys meeting interesting people.” He then presented me with a terrific print from a local artist named Sam Robinson, who captured “The Manor Race,” one of the steeplechase races held every year in Monkton, which Bill’s family started 112 years ago. Bill knew my Dad was having a birthday tomorrow, and that my mother was crazy for horses. So, he wanted them to have it, and asked me to give it to them with his regards. I did, and they were delighted. A lovely gift, on this, the 63rd anniversary of their nuptials.

So many other nice people, with so many stories to tell. Thanks for coming out, very much. If you couldn’t make it, you can order a bottle at Partial online proceeds benefit the mikeroweWORKS foundation.
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