Make Mine a Large Glass of Bleach

by Matt Kolbet

Drinking port in Portugal was a natural fit. I had three souvenir bottles in my luggage, packed between wrinkled shirts and dirty socks, padded on all sides by clothes that after a week of travel had too much life of their own. My underwear wasn’t actively saluting, but it was clearly considering the matter.

“No liquids on the plane,” said a gate agent in Lisbon when he found the bottles in my carry-on. He smiled, offered to take them for me. I declined his generosity and shuffled the alcohol over to my checked bags, worried about how often they would be tossed before ...

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