Last night I went to a straight bar on the Upper West Side to say farewell to a wonderful friend who's leaving New York to sing in Europe for five months.
I asked for a Grey Goose martini, dry, no olive.
What I got was a glass of vermouth with a splash of vodka. Blech. It tasted like bilgewater. (Yes, I speak from experience. No, you can't ask.)
Some other friends had just returned from a singing engagement in Brazil and brought her a pair of beautiful handcrafted earrings from a market in Rio. "Oh...but, I wonder if anyone else has tried them on?" asked my friend.
"Here," I said, passing her the "martini" I wasn't able to finish. She dunked the earring loops into the glass and then put them in her ears.
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1 comment:
Please tell me that you then sent the offending drink back to the offensive bartender. There is simply NEVER an excuse for a bad martini. Never.
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