

When the fate of humanity rests in your hands, you sometimes have to dig a little deeper. And by 'a little deeper' I mean getting up at 0700 on a Sunday morning in winter in order to make and drink a layered cocktail.
Don't get me wrong, the hurdles I had to jump over for the successful completion of this challenge were not so much mental - after all, who hasn't secretly wanted to drink a cocktail in the morning once or twice - but rather physical. The bed was warm, the fog of the previous night was settled like a fine, fuzzy dew across my tongue, and I knew I didn't have the right kind of glass for a Molokai Mike. But if the Gibson vs. Gibson experience has shown me anything, it's that the satisfaction of a successfully completed mission brings a kind of relaxation and bliss regularly only experienced by Buddhist monks and people patting really cute puppies.
With all ingredients gathered and with a glass of hot water and lemon juice in hand to flush the liver and line the gut, I began the cocktail assembly at approximately 0735 AEST. My major stumbling block was the crushing of ice - both food processor and blender failed me - until I remembered my 60s Ice-O-Matic manual ice crusher. Thank goodness for this piece of chrome and plastic excellence. It shaved the ice down to a size manageable for the blender.
But the ice wasn't the only thing I was cutting fine. At 0758, with just 2 minutes left before the allotted time, the cocktail was finally assembled (with slightly dubious layering, it has to be said) and I hurried outside to assume the position. In my non-drinking hand, I chose to hold the souvenir Head-O-State, representing America's fascination with sex and politics. At 0800, I imbibed the Molokai Mike and as the layers merged in my belly and my photographer snapped the moment, I felt at one with Gibson-US and with the world at large. However, this feeling quickly passed and I was left merely with a compulsion to go back into the heated house.






