"Chardonnay is elevator music for a tone-deaf nation.""I don't understand," I said, not understanding."Chardonnay is fast food. It's daytime TV. It's soylent green.""Soylent green…" Slowly I turned. Step by step.Farther down the bar I paused at a tall blonde."Another Petite Sirah," she shouted at the bartender.I smiled. She smiled back broadly, revealing a mouth full of purple-stained teeth."I have my own wine blog," she announced.Oh God, not a wine blogger. I tried to run. She grabbed my arm."It was recognized as one of the top 10,000 blogs in the wine industry.""Top 10,000?" I mouthed. "The odds of that must be at least one in a million.""I'm meeting some fellow bloggers here in a few minutes. We get together once a week todiscuss wines we've recently tasted.""Isn't that what your blogs are for?" My voice was nothing more than a dog whistle toher.She spotted her friends at a nearby table. They waved. She waved."Follow me." It was not a request.Dutifully I followed. At the table introductions were made. They were Blake, James andElena. The woman I had been talking to was Sonia. I told them my name was Lancelot."What are you drinking, Lancelot?""Chardonnay," I responded.In unison they stuck their fingers down their throats.Over the next 10 minutes, I listened as each of them lectured thin air about theramifications of Biodynamics, alcohol levels in Zinfandel, the price of Bordeaux, Parker,the price of Burgundy, filtration, clones, Parker, terroir, obscure varieties, native yeast,deficit irrigation and of course, Parker.