Complex Numbers

Talent

Besides the craft of writing, are you an artist in any other medium? Sculptor, singer, dancer, painter? Share a story about your talent!

I have no talent.

This is a difficult thing for me to admit. In a society that values talent and good looks above all else, it makes me a pariah on both counts.

Don't think I haven't tried. Oh, I have a bit of skill at technical drawing; I started out as a drafter before I became a professional engineer. That's less talent and more attention to detail, though. It takes knowledge of geometry and an understanding of math, both of which I'm fair at, but there's little creativity involved.

I've also been a photographer, and even gotten paid for it. But I was never any kind of Ansel Adams; I merely applied my technical skills to things like composition and lighting. There, too, true creativity eluded me.

One thing I wish I had real talent for was music. I've studied music theory. I played piano, violin, and guitar. But I've always envied those who didn't have to read music, who instead could just hear something and recreate it on an instrument. It is fortunate for others that I'm something of a loner, because I do sing - though not well. Get me drunk at a karaoke bar and it's a different story, but I won't do that in my hometown. Otherwise, my love for music has to be limited to passive listening.

I do okay at cooking, but there was never any danger of me becoming a professional chef.

Okay, I do have one talent, but it's an utterly useless one: you know how you're always told not to mix different types of booze? Well, my talent is being able to completely ignore that advice. Fermented or distilled, any order, all day long. Sure, I get hangovers like anyone, but they don't seem to have anything to do with what I drink before or after other drinks.

I told you it was useless.

So, since this is related to my one ridiculous talent, I'll share a story.

One time, oh, must have been early 2017, I was sitting in my safe space (a bar) when I saw, on the wall, a bottle of Rumchata  . Rumchata is, as its name suggests, a rum drink, but it's important for this particular story to note that it's actually produced in Wisconsin. I'd been introduced to it on St. Thomas, where some friends and I spent half a day trying out different combinations of various rums and rum drinks, including Rumchata.

Now, I'd recently watched The Big Lebowski for something like the 147th time, and I'd been thinking of ordering a White Russian because I'm a Dudist at heart (except I really like The Eagles, man). But seeing that bottle of Rumchata gave me an idea.

"What if," I said to the bartender, "you made me a White Russian, but used Rumchata instead of cream?"

"Oooh," she said, either impressed by my drink-making creativity or, more likely, sensing a big tip in her future. "I can do that."

A White Russian (or as The Dude calls it, a Caucasian) involves cream (or milk), kahlua, and vodka. This particular bartender, whose name was Christy, substituted Rumchata for half the cream. That's okay; I figure her job is to make 'em and my job is to drink 'em.

I'm sure I'm not the first person to come up with that particular drink - I never am - but I'd never heard of it being done. When she was finished with her artistry, I declared it to be delicious.

"Now," I said, "we just need to name the drink."

"Oh, I don't know," she said, "I'd have to think about it."

"Well," I mused, after thinking it over, "Rumchata is a very American creation. But the vodka gives it that Russian influence. So I think we should call it... an American Election."

"Oh, that's just wrong."

So that's how I invented a drink that had probably already been invented, but gave it a name that's purely Waltz.