The Table the Brand Paid For

Brand dinners have their own rhythm. Someone is always explaining something—the heritage, the process, the story behind the story—while everyone nods and sips and quietly negotiates whether to feel cynical about being there at all. The cocktails are always interesting. The conversation is usually better than it has any right to be.

Absolut hosted one of these: a small group, an evening built around cocktails that arrived looking like oversized popcorn containers, and a bartender named Axel who knew an unreasonable amount about vodka. The Scandinavian origins, the production method, the particular combination of winter wheat and water that makes the thing taste the way it does. I went in expecting to be bored and came out genuinely more interested in the subject than I’d arrived.

The company helped. Dirk, Franzi and Steffi, Angelika and Moritz, Andi—people I knew from various corners of the internet, suddenly around an actual table. We left a little drunk, carrying bottles and large balloons into a taxi, which is probably the best possible outcome for an evening like this. I’ve been to worse dinners with people I cared about more.