Now that the Nineties are in their final weeks, I can't help feeling that I missed out on all the things that made the decade so enjoyable for everybody else. I did not make millions on an Internet start-up. I did not show a film at Sundance. I did not have a sexual relationship with that woman, Miss Lewinsky.
And I did not learn to like single-malt scotch. This last failure has been my greatest source of shame. I'd pretend to be excited whenever I was offered a sip of one of those expensive Scottish imports. But as I raised it to my nose and let it pass my lips, my face contorted--I could never stop it--into that of a small child tasting a grown-up drink like, well, single-malt scotch.
So the past 10 years have proved to be an ordeal. But the decade ahead promises to be much better, if only because I am right on top of the new wave of top-shelf spirits.