Absinthe overrated, overpriced

This year, the United States legalized a psychoactive liquor called absinthe. Ernest Hemingway used to favor it, as did Oscar Wilde. Some people claim that Vincent Van Gogh even cut his ear off while intoxicated from it.

I have always been a "try everything once" kind of guy. Although I didn't feel heavily depressed or like performing self-mutilation, I decided to buy a bottle and see what the hype was about.

I wanted to do a little research before I experimented, so I found a Web site devoted entirely to every drug known to mankind. The site I found, www.erowid.org, is an extremely well-organized and simply-crafted Web site that gives information (with sources) on hundreds of chemicals, plants, pharmaceuticals, and other designer drugs.

I found that absinthe is made by soaking wormwood in grain alcohol. Thujone, the active ingredient in wormwood, is debated to have psychoactive effects. Most of the information I found concluded that being drunk on absinthe is more vivid than your standard drunk, and that it "awakens" your senses. Also, the chemical reactions from thujone and alcohol clash, resulting in an ability to appear more sober, drink more, and feel more "awakened."

America legalized the sale of two specific brands that included wormwood in early 2008. The catch is that although these contain thujone, it is significantly less than that of what the European brands do.

I called around and found one of the brands, Lucid, was sold at Cornhusker Bottle Shop. My experience wasn't going to be cheap - it cost $65 for a 750 mL bottle. You can get a same-sized bottle of deliciously cheap vodka for about one-tenth of that price.

I caved in and reluctantly bought a bottle and came home hoping for the best. Maybe I would have a vision or smell colors; perhaps something trippy to get my money's worth.

Things didn't go as planned.

I opened the bottle and took in what I hoped to be the sweet aromas of herbal kindness. What I actually smelled was the putrid scent of black licorice mixed with the stinging odor of grain alcohol. The bottle stated it was 62.7 percent alcohol and read "extremely flammable." As if the smell wasn't dissuading enough: now I had to worry about throwing up near an open flame if I got queasy.

The bottle had directions for preparing the drink. They coincided with just about every Web site I had found on absinthe. You are supposed to pour a couple ounces into a glass and then put a perforated spoon (an absinthe spoon) over the glass. Then you place a sugar cube on the spoon, drizzling cold water on the cube until it dissolves and drips down into the liquor.

This looked like the classy thing to do.

But I couldn't find sugar, so I picked up the bottle and chugged.

I barely got one swallow down before I began to gag. The taste is indescribably horrid. I have drunk straight Everclear and chew spit (on accident), yet I almost prefer those to the taste absinthe. I'll do my best to describe it.

The major taste is black licorice - which I detest - mixed with feces. The aggregate of other herbs, spices, and straight alcohol quickly accompanies the initial onslaught of nastiness. What follows is a rotten taste in one's mouth coupled with a burning sensation from throat to stomach. Every time I burped or exhaled after the shot reminded me of the squander of $65.

However, I was not ready to give up. I had to wait for a funny feeling, or at the very least get drunk.

I mixed it with Red Bull, which slightly clouded the taste and gave the mixture a cool color. After about six more shots, I couldn't take anymore. My mouth was watering and I felt like I was going to puke up my money.

I called it quits and waited. I had consumed about twenty dollars worth of my bottle and thought to myself, "What a waste."

The Olympics were on, but they didn't seem any more "vivid." No colors jumped out at me. No extreme thoughts entered my brain. No mind-altering perception-changing experience occurred. I felt a little buzz but it was just the same feeling I got from six shots of deliciously cheap vodka.

Again, I thought to myself "What a waste."

Then, something weird happened.

The following is 100 percent serious. I do not know whether what happened next was due to the alcohol, the chemicals in the absinthe, or sheer coincidence. I have written many columns with embarrassing stories in them, but this one may take the cake.

I had wound down and gone to bed a couple hours after drinking the absinthe. Then, at about 4:15 a.m., I awakened to a wet bed.

Luckily, I was midstream when I woke up and had the ability to pinch off, but I had already peed on myself and my girlfriend's leg. I woke her up and she laughed at me, which she continued to do for the majority of the next day.

I did too. I don't know what caused it, but I cannot remember the last time I peed myself - with the exception of the last time I went to the pool.

Just kidding.

To conclude, absinthe is a joke. It's expensive, it tastes apalling, and it apparently makes you pee your pants. Save your money and buy ten bottles of vodka, or whatever it is that you favor. Maybe I should stop trying new things and stick to what I like. It would save me money, embarrassment and the responsibility of buying new bed sheets.

Still, I'm thinking to myself: what a waste.

GRANT TRIPLETT IS A SENIOR COMMUNICATIONS STUDIES MAJOR. REACH HIM AT GRANTTRIPLETT@DAILYNEBRASKAN.COM