Wine At Lunch

Unless you drink at noon-ish every day, it's probably not the best idea you ever had. Alcohol, I mean, with your otherwise calorically correct light lunch. Do you have time for a post-prandial nap or are you going back to some cubicle, where you'll sit staring stupidly at a screen, trying to remember why you can't just go home?
But what if the nice young waiter with the large ring in his nose and the GI buzz haircut has offered you a free glass, because of some bar mistake that resulted in an overpour? (How about that word? Reminds me of eaves and Morton's salt.) My good intentions flew right out the window, even though the wine itself was an Argentinian chardonnay, which could have been fairly awful. Why I hadn't cared that I didn't order it in the first place. It was actually pretty good - no oak, light like a sauvignon blanc. I drank it with pleasure and have the rosy cheeks to prove it.
My drinking companion, a friend I see occasionally because we may not really like each other, always has wine when we lunch. Fish and chips and wine. Hamburgers and wine. This time it made her mean.
"I wish he's take out that nose ring," was the opening volley. Next came a story of leaving a meal half eaten in some other dining venue because the wait person had so many tats and piercings that my friend couldn't stand to look. Next came ordering dessert and insisting we leave without eating it when it hadn't arrived in five minutes. Then she wanted not to tip. Then I wanted to go home and never be seen in public in that area again, even though I'm quite fond of the restaurant and had enjoyed my meal. My Dad would have said "She's a meany with big nose pores."