I look at all the different brand names and I see Budweiser, a familiar name I often see on commercials. “We should get this one; I’ve seen it on commercials.” We are ignorant of brands for such beverages, beverages that we are forbidden to talk about, forbidden to drink. The bottle of red wine that we pick is designed with flowers, too pretty for its content. Somehow the flowers and colors make this prohibited act okay. By night, the candles are lit and I propose a toast, “To a life in New York City.” I drink my first wine, sipping a frowned upon drink, an act of sin. I swallow and my throat feels hot; I suddenly feel a warmness I have never felt before. I don’t like its taste, its bitterness and I push my glass aside. But maybe I can ignore the details and simply say that it was poetic, romantic, exotic. A bottle of wine will always be a bottle of wine. It will be forbidden for some and celebrated by others. And I, I can say what I want. I can say that I look forward to exotic adventures and frivolous pleasures in the future. Maybe in New York. Maybe here. There are no rules as to where I will choose to stay; I can pick something I’ve only heard of, like picking a beer I’ve seen an ad for. I’ve chosen a forbiddent taste tonight, what will I choose tomorrow?