As you all know, I adore an occasional drinkie poo.
There's nothing more civilized than sitting in a bar and just
letting go. The conviviality
that a cocktail inspires is quite amazing. And nothing is more delicious than the gossip gleaned while intimately imbibing!
Depending on where you sip, one's ensemble can expand or contract depending on who happens by. That sense of comraderie is just as intoxicating as one's cocktail of choice. Too much of a good thing is rarely beneficial. So please be careful or you'll be left paying the tab!
I adore a venerable hotel bar. Socializing in someone else's living room is quite comfortable. Plus the retro pomp of jacketed waiters, imprinted coasters, swizzle sticks, and silver bowls of cashews is beyond civilized.
Watch out.
Bars are not the best venue for
a clandestine confab. It's a small world, especially in a cocktail lounge. I've known of more marriages ruined due to an errant encounter viewed by a significant other's confidant,
co-worker, or conspirator.
For years I sat at the same bar in the same stool and was served the same entree, same martini. It's also safe to assume that I told to the same stories daily to my faithful bartender. That sense
of being beloved and well cared for is beyond comforting.
I have been known to enjoy an occassional show tune. At one time I belonged to a private club where every evening the piano played to songbook slides of the lyrics flashed upon the wall above. While I don't do karaoke, I sung my guts out in that joint.
Finally, we must end with the suburban basement bar. These knotty pine relics sit idle in the bowels of homes everywhere. I have no idea what happened in these dens of iniquities but the party is obviously over.
