A few minutes after I had returned from a morning run, Mel dropped by the cabin to inform me that his sleep apnea test the previous night had went well and asked if I would like to join him that evening to watch some "puck" and feast on some elk meatloaf. This guy really knows how to press all of my buttons.

Upon my arrival at his cabin later that day, I offered him a Grain Belt from the case that I had brought along. He let out a loud groan immediately following his first sip, exclaiming "That's just fucking delicious". Indeed. After enjoying the exquisite elk meatloaf, shot by one of his son-in-laws, Mel asked me about the best whiskey I've ever had. "Are we talking bourbon, scotch whiskey, or what?", I responded. Before I even had the chance to finish describing the small batch of whiskey from the highlands of Germany that once graced my lips, he had already opened a new bottle of Paddy's, pouring it into a pair of low ball glasses until they were about three-quarters full. "Irish Whiskey", he said as we toasted to our new friendship. Enjoying that first sip, I watched as Mel immediately took the entire glass to the face, an act which I decided I should also perform at that juncture so as to be polite. We sat around the kitchen table for the rest of the night, consuming nearly all of the Paddy's, talking about life and how Mel wishes for his remains to be either dehydrated or freeze dried when he passes, not finding the need to ever turn on the television.