Whose wine is it, anyway?

We dined at Al Falaj on Christmas Eve and were treated to big fat Christmas dinner. Tables were spread out on the front porch in front of the pool area and a choir was singing Christmas carols. It was, truly a festive set up. Santa arrived too, and handed us chocolates and cookies. The service was topnotch and the buffet, was one of the largest spreads I have ever seen. There was a salad counter with endless number of salads, which included kimchi, fatoush, sushi, mushrooms and so many more that my plate fell short of space. The starters included a taco counter, nacho counter, grilled meats such as beef steak, beef sausages, chicken sausages, grilled fish counter which included barbecued prawns, stir fried calamari and grilled fish. The mains included fish lasagna, turkey, khuskhus and so many things that my memory fails me. We had expected and hoped for a few Sri Lankan dishes but there were none and that was a tad disappointing. The food, to my delight and my parent's mise

Mumbai arrived late. Mumbai, in most cases, was delayed by circumstances beyond his control. "Got stuck in the lift" he sighed as he took a seat opposite me. His hair was ruffled and shirt untucked and crumpled. "I look like a mess, don't I?" He asked, running his hands through his hair. "You always do" smiled Delhi, who was on his fourth drink. Mumbai excused himself and went to tidy up. "Polite fucker" said Delhi, as he watched Mumbai make his way to the men's room. "He'll look like crap even after he grooms himself", continued Delhi as he took a large swig of his drink. "He's very occupied" said I defensively. I was on my first drink and Delhi was on his fourth. "Easy my friend, you're driving", said I carefully. I always measured my words when I spoke with Delhi. He was easily offended, very aggressive and often vindictive. He ignored me and downed the remainder of his drink in a single gul