Contrary to popular belief, wine drinkers are not as sophisticated as once thought. Especially when the wine is free.

My husband and I are members of a local vineyard’s wine club. This past weekend we attended a wine tasting event sponsored by the vineyard in appreciation of their members. Club members constitute wine aficionados (alcoholics) who spend, on average, over 65 percent of their annual income on wine (imbeciles). Hello, my name is Jacqueline and I am an imbecilic alcoholic.

Hoping to blend in with the wine elite we dressed the part. My husband donned a handsome ascot with matching tweed jacket, while I slid a beautiful corsage onto my wrist. Classy.

Upon arriving at the event we quickly realized we were… well, idiots. The attire of choice was blue jeans and sneakers. Who tastes wine in sneakers? Apparently wine drinkers do.

Still trying to maintain some decorum, we pulled our shoulders back and proceeded to the first table. After thirty minutes in line with thirsty, sweating, denim-clad winos we were provided with our half-ounce of red splendor. I swirled the lush liquid around in my glass and admired the legs.

“Get the hell outta the way lady! Can’t you see there’s a line?”

Horrified, we stepped aside to watch the crowd and quickly learned what needed to be done to get the most out of this event:

1) Pretend you don’t see the 30 people in line and go straight to the front. Ignore the cuss words and act as if you hardly notice the guy behind you thumping you in the head with his glass.

2) Hold your glass inches from the pourer while reciting the following using a fake British accent: “I thoroughly enjoyed the last wine which was deeply concentrated with dense layers of aromatic complexity. It started with hints of apple and pear, followed by just a touch of soggy dog, finally exploding in my mid-palate with a bold finish of dried hemp and dirty socks. And, what a complex nose -– filling my nasal cavities with aromas of blackened parsnips and daring Old Spice overtones.”

3) Turn and sprint to the next table. Don’t worry about bumping someone’s elbow and causing them to chip a tooth on their glass. They’ll be so drunk by the end of this event they won’t even care!

We quickly adapted. My husband threw his ascot to the ground. I hiked up my skirt and off we ran to sample the next bottle. Forget what you’ve been told about sniffing and slurping, or enjoying the feel and the taste. And, don’t even think about spitting! It’s all a myth. To imbibe like the “experts” at an event like this you need to be able to push, gulp and sprint! Throw back that half-ounce and move on to the next table. In no time you’ll be feeling fine and you’ll have the purple chipped teeth to prove it.

We were bumped and pushed for the next two hours — my poor corsage never stood a chance. But, I did overhear the following comment upon accidentally dropping a petal in someone’s glass:

“Ah, it has such a lovely floral bouquet!”

Worth every chipped tooth.