In late 2019 I was traveling around Central Eurasia: first to Armenia (where I had the little issue with Ambien - see Pt. 4) and then to Georgia (where I had the run-in with the Russian Mafia in a club - see Pt. 14), and then Azerbaijan visiting friends (Emil, Goga) and completing multiple speaking engagements. I then took a flight to Qatar to finish my speaking and adventuring tour of the region, flying directly over Iran.

During my visit to Georgia, while in Tbilisi, my client, host, and friend George (of course that is his name!) offered me a special gift: two bottles of Georgian Wine. One was classically bottled and finished in glass with a traditional cork, and the second was in a water bottle of the classic Georgian mineral water Borjomi, with a plastic top.

George explained. “Georgia invented wine-making 5000 years ago. The first (glass) bottle is a fine local vintage. The second is from my father-in-law’s vineyard, which has been in the family for generations. It is my favorite.” I was vastly more excited to taste the home-grown wine but wanted to bring it home to share with my friends, so I carefully packed them both in my bag and then checked it to Baku, Azerbaijan, and then again to Qatar, before heading home to Chicago.

Upon arrival in Doha, Qatar, I was subject to the usual bag screening before entering the country. As my bag exited the x-ray machine, the security officer manning the machine said to me, “sir it appears you have bottles in your bag that might be alcohol.” I said, “yes, it is a gift of wine from friends in Georgia.” He said, “well Qatar is a dry country, so you will not be allowed to bring them in.” I started to protest, “I’ve brought these two bottles across several countries, I’m not going to open them here…” He stopped me. He was of Indian origin, not Qatari. “Sir, not to worry - we take and put it into storage here, and when you return you can retrieve for your trip home.”

I was relieved and walked to the storage area where I was able to check my alcohol into a room replete with hundreds of similar bags of alcohol in temporary storage.

Over the next couple of days, I had a fun set of adventures in Doha and into the countryside with my friend Eldegiz and had a spirited debate about the nature of time with Khalid and his son and several other Qatari leaders, and a coffee with my friend from Mela, Ayseba.

Eldegiz and I took a trip to the dunes where we rode camels, went dune surfing, and took a Landcruiser tour right to the edge of Saudi Arabia. Given my extensive experience with skateboarding, skiing, skating, etc. I managed to ride the sandboard all the way to the bottom of the dune without crashing.

After a number of meetings with Qatari prospects for future speaking engagements, I crashed at the hotel for a super early commute to the airport. While I was happy to Uber, Eldegiz despite the hour (4:00 am) was insistent that he will drive me to the airport where he had picked me up 60 hours prior. We arrived plenty early for my 7 am flight. I checked in and checked my bag through to Chicago for the 13.5-hour direct flight. I then headed to the secure duty-free area where I picked up my two bottles of Georgian wine and with 2 hours to spare headed to the airline club to relax for an hour and eat a small bite before the long flight.

While in the airline club I followed a procedure taught to me by a very senior member of a large US airline based out of Dallas: fill your bottle with some booze for any long trip, “just in case.” I proceeded to fill my insulated water bottle at the Emirates club with some quite nice wine to drink at some point later in the day on the long flight.

An hour later, my flight was starting to board so I headed for my gate. There, I was slightly unnerved in that there was yet another security point within the actual gate. I had to pass the desk and show my ticket and passport and only then put my bag (again) through the metal detector.

Well, things quickly went off the rails. The crew buzzed around the screen as my bag went through. They were all very polite young Indian men, recruited to Qatar. “Sir, it appears there is some liquid in your bags!”

“Well yes,” I said, “I had some wine I was bringing with me on my travels and it was impounded here - go ahead and take it out - you’ll see it has already been processed for my trip back to the USA.” They removed the duty-free-type bag from my bag and a fairly animated discussion ensued. This went on for some time and then a manager (also Indian, not Qatari) approached. “Sir, you cannot bring liquids on an airplane more than 2.3 oz.”

I was a bit chagrined and tried to explain, “So… I checked these 2 bottles of wine in 3 days ago because they were not allowed in the country. They were in my checked bags. I was told I could retrieve them to return home. However…” and I paused, “the place where I was instructed to pick up these 2 bottles of wine was well after I had already checked my bag… so there appears to a problem with your process.”

More discussion ensued in various languages, none of which I understood. Time was ticking down, and we were down to 30 minutes to take off.

After much discussion and a few radio calls, the manager approached, “Ok,” he said, “we are going to remove all the checked baggage from the plane until we find your bag, and we will put these liquids in there for the flight - is that OK for you sir?”

I felt bad for all the effort but at the same time, I was confused by the obvious gap in their own procedures. If the only place that I could pick up my bag of duty-free alcohol was 2 security checkpoints past the bag check, then how in the world did anyone get their checked alcohol home? Rather than argue about their process I just nodded and agreed.

More scrambling ensued and 20 minutes later my checked bag appeared. They asked me if it was my bag and if they could put the wine inside. I nodded heartily. We were already at last call with only 10 minutes until departure for a 13.5-hour international flight.

I started to walk toward the jetway and one of them said, “oh sir, we must re-run your bag now” and they did so as well as my backpack. The rollaway went through fine, but now the backpack was pulled aside.

“Sir, there appears to be liquid in this bottle” - he points to my insulated water bottle. “No liquids more than 2.3 ounces are allowed to pass here.”

I was mortified - I had forgotten all about it, and definitely did not want that bottle to be labeled as containing the devil’s elixir of wine, so I said, “Oh - yeah that’s just water - I’ll just dump it out in the bathroom.”

The young man continued with a pained look, “Um, no sir, you cannot leave the secure area now. So… can you just drink it - this water?” His face was full of hope and a bit of fear.

It was 6 am and that bottle contained an entire bottle of wine, perhaps a bit more. I was having none of it. “No, no, I’m not thirsty - I will just dump it out in the trash then and we can go.”

“Sir, sir, there is no proper receptacle - please, sir, drink it, drink it - all the drops.” and like a chorus the other gentleman and the manager who I was holding up repeated it, “drink it sir, please,” they pleaded, “drink it - all the drops.” Their eyes and hands were begging me, while making the drinking motion. “We must leave now, we can’t hold the plane more sir - please, you must drink it - all the drops.”

I felt like I was a Middle Eastern frat party, but with the wrong accents. I swear the phrase “drink it - all the drops” will stay with me to the end of my days.

It was 6am, and 4 young men with good intentions were begging me to not delay a plane - what was one to do? I tilted the bottle back and chugged some fine red wine and then chugged some more. I finished nearly a liter of wine in about 20 seconds. I drank it, “all the drops.”

My bag passed through with no “drops” and I headed down the jetway, the wine already intruding into my empty stomach and tired mind. By the time I slouched in my seat I was ready to pass out - which I proceeded to do.

I woke 10 hours later to enjoy the final meal before landing in Chicago. The fine Georgian wine had survived in my checked bag and was absolutely amazing. Thank you George from Georgia!

Why Am I Still Alive Pt. 25: Drink It! Drink It All of the Drops!