If there is one thing I've learned in life, it's that, champagne, when drank in such a way that there is always at least one glass in each of your hands, will produce a rather unpleasant effect on the skull the subsequent day. If consumed in this fashion, and rapidly, before the bubbles burst, the drink will make you dance lewdly in public. It will make your tongue soft, causing your words to stumble off your teeth and roll ludicrously off your lips in a half graceful, idiotic sort of drawl.
As the sweet citrus effervescence surges through your bloodstream, throwing fistfuls of little white flowers, singing and skipping, something happens to you after the first glass is gone. A whirling lightness and levity seize you as something sugary spills over the smooth grey grooves in your brain. Wonder and magic. Now, in this moment, pleasantly anesthetized, the world becomes a colorful carousel. Worries fill with helium and float away. The mouth becomes tractable, bending itself into a smile against gravity. Everything is suddenly amenable to a youthful idyllic whimsy. There is the feeling of being in fortune's favor, of having fallen into the gaze of a supremely magnanimous set of eyes.
It's all illusory of course, you're just drunk, the world hasn't actually been transformed. But for you it has. And if the only thing that you can ever really know is what exists just behind your forehead, then, does it matter that the world hasn't changed? You have.
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