I don’t remember much more about Purple Passion beyond the fact that it tasted like grape-flavored rubbing alcohol. What else would it taste like? It was made from Everclear grain alcohol. I’m surprised I have any stomach lining or tooth enamel left after drinking this stuff.
Purple Passion’s sole purpose? To lead you quickly down the path to total blitzed status. If there’s another purpose for this drink, I can only assume it involves battlefield emergency triage. On the night I was introduced to it, however, it was about the blitzing.
My best friend was home from college for the weekend and excited to introduce me to this drink she’d discovered at one of the parties she’d been to on campus. And, yes, this would be the same BFF of the infamous sleepovers that caused me to charffle Dimetapp and pepperoni pizza. Apparently, she had a thing for getting me buzzed on purple things.
Slight problem: We weren’t quite 21 yet. I mean, we were emotionally way more mature than 21. Unfortunately, the government doesn’t acknowledge emotional age. Not that big a deal, though. We had one of her friends buy us a four-pack of this high-octane Kool-Aid. He then drove us around down all the rural backroads of the county where she lived while we sprawled in the backseat, splitting the Purple Passion bottles.
Oh, but wait. You have to have music for something like this, right? How about a cassette of The Fugees’ The Score, on constant rotation? I heard that damned album so many times that even while burning a hole through my central processor with grain alcohol, I was able to identify that they’d sampled Enya on their song, “Ready or Not.”
And now I’ve just outted myself as being familiar enough with Enya that I was able to identify her music.
Shut up. I hear you laughing.
You know what? For that, I’m leaving you with the Fugees/Enya song. I told you to shut up…