Tuesday night was ladies night, and after a very challenging day Tuesday I was ALL IN for cocktails and dinner. We decided to go to a new restaurant and got a seat at the bar that fronts the exhibition kitchen - which means we sat in full view of all of the chefs. There were 6 of us, and we were dialed up to about an 11. We spent much of the evening shouting at each other down the length of the bar - usually about something highly inappropriate - and drinking steadily. When I got there they had ordered beers - I gave them the eyebrow, skipped the warm up round, and went right to the whiskey. My drink came quickly, because I concluded my order by looking steadily into my server's eyes and saying "I am very VERY thirsty". She nodded knowingly and patted my arm before she hurried away.
And I was thirsty. So when my drink arrived, I took a huge swallow - and tears came to my eyes. But not tears of joy - I was trying not to retch.
It was salty.
Like, salted rim of the glass salty.
I took another, smaller sip.....carefully considering the textures and smells and tastes.
Still salty. Really salty.
(because even if it's salty, I still really like whiskey.)
Then I passed it to the girl next to me, who took a sip and gagged while I reached for the menu to re-read the ingredients. Nothing salty.
She passed it to the girl next to her who put it to her lips and shuddered before willing herself to take a taste. She was shaking her head before she even set the glass down. "There's something wrong with that. Something went BAD or something."
"It's gross, right? It's not just me?"
They both shook their heads as a third girl reached for the glass, sipped and flinched. "Oh god, that's awful."
So I made eye contact with our server, who made her way over.
"Um, listen. I hate to be THAT GUY. But there is something wrong with my drink."
"Something wrong with it?"
"Salty? It is not supposed to be salty."
"Yeah, I know. And it is. Salty. Really salty. You try it." I handed her the glass and she took it reluctantly. "I can't try it, but I'll get my bar manager to try it."
"Someone needs to try it, so I know that it's not supposed to taste that way. Because if that is how it is supposed to taste? It's disgusting and you shouldn't be serving it."
She came back really quickly with a new drink. "I am SO SORRY." she exclaimed as she set down the glass. "There was a mistake."
"No kidding." I took a sip of the new and much improved drink, and was so relieved at the difference that I took another slug immediately before passing the glass down and turning back to the server, who was leaning on the bar studying my reaction. "That is much better. So what happened?"
"It had olive juice in it."
I looked at her in disbelief. She looked at me with compassion.
"They put olive juice in whiskey." I said flatly. "WHY would ANYONE put olive juice in whiskey? THAT IS DISGUSTING."
"It IS disgusting. They mistook the olive juice for the ginger syrup. That must have been awful, I am so sorry!" We were both so horrified that we just stayed there for a moment, reflecting on how someone could do such a thing to Maker's Mark. Tragic, really. She walked off as I turned back to the menu.
Meanwhile, my drink was rapidly disappearing down the bar, so when the server - who by now shared such a tight bond with us that I didn't know how I would survive without her - walked by again, I ordered another one. And then I had a shot of another whiskey that the manager sent over. And then I finally ate something....but it was too late. We had already started talking about whale scoliosis and turtle herpes, and the chefs were all desperately trying to look somewhere - ANYWHERE - except at the line of women seated 3 feet in front of them laughing hysterically and accusing each other of spreading herpes to the turtle population in Maui.
"We went on a snorkle trip and we saw them. The turtles were, like covered with them. So I asked. I said, "What are those, barnicles?" because they have these things growing on them, like barnicles or something. But the guide said they are NOT barnicles. They're herpes. Turtles started getting herpes when more and more dive boats started going out into Turtle Town."
"I told you to leave that damn turtle alone." one of the girls shouted at another.
"How was I to know?" we were hysterical at this point, breathless and gasping.
But then we got serious. "Wait, can I catch herpes from a turtle?"
"Is herpes just, like, floating the ocean and I can catch it?"
"Oh. My. God. I am never swimming in the ocean again."
"Yeah, you know there's a ton of whale jizz in there too. It's whale season, after all."
"Oh man, no wonder the water was so gross this weekend. Valentine's Day."
"Oh GROSS! Do whales celebrate Valentine's Day too?"
"No, but you know a ton of people were having sex in the ocean on Valentine's Day."
"No wonder turtles have herpes."
The people at the other end of the bar asked for their check.
And then the cream pie arrived and you can just imagine where we went with that.
In conclusion, if you are opening a restaurant and you are looking for a crowd of women to sit at your bar and critique your drink menu and flirt with your staff and scream at each other about creaming and herpes, well, we're available, and we'd love to help you out.
13 hours ago