Bulleit Proof

5 My Old Soldier

I SIT IN THE far corner of Dudley’s Restaurant, facing the front door so I’ll be able to see her walk in. I chose this place because it’s clubby, convenient, classy, and quiet. They serve excellent food and pour generous, tasty cocktails. I’ve heard they have a good wine list, too, but I’ll take any Kentucky bourbon over even a high-end Napa red any day. Nothing against Napa or red wine. Just not my style, not my taste. I’m a whiskey drinker and remain a bourbon distiller dreamer. Yes, still carrying that with me. I’ve recently turned 43 and have not acted on that dream. Yet.

I crane my neck, peer through the dining room’s hazy atmospheric light, making sure I haven’t missed her entrance. I’m early. I’m always early. That’s another of the Bulleit Points I live by, but this one I consider a command, not a suggestion. Be on time. Which to me means arrive at least 10 minutes early. Being late is both rude and disrespectful. Speaks volumes about a person’s character. Or lack of it.

So, I’m early. Twelve minutes by my Rolex, to be exact. My Rolex is both distinctive and an extravagance, to be sure, but in my current state of mind—confused—and in the current state of my life—tumultuous—I need something I can rely on, a reminder that life can be ordered, simple, and beautiful to look at, even during the most disordered, complex, and unpleasant times. Thus, my Rolex. (Thirty-two years later, I still have it, still wear it.)

I sigh, absently adjust the silverware and ...