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Last night Red and I went out to dinner after I finished work. And I needed a drink. Not wanted. Needed. Computers had gone down at The Bar for an extended time, the bartender after me was on her first day off of training, meaning I had to stay later (though I expected this), and the computer thing had everyone on edge and testy. So when we were out later and I actually started rattling my platter on the bar with nervous pent-up energy and frustration, Red agreed that I NEEDED a shot.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. We walk into the restaurant, and the place is packed. I walk immediately to the bar, where we always sit, and somehow miraculously immediately find two open stools down by the service bar end of the bar, apparently just vacated by the previous diners. We snatched the stools quickly, and when the bartender came up and asked us if we needed drinks, I said, "Yes--I'll take the biggest funnel of beer you have!" Not missing a beat, the bartender said, "Well, we don't have a funnel. How about a large, and I keep them coming?" Red and I knew immediately we'd like this chick!
Things just got more amusing. Although they were knee deep busy, our bartender and the other one were enjoying the hell out of themselves, and when I mentioned that they and both of us were "the people of the boring names," they decided to adopt alternative names, dubbing themselves "Shanaynay" and "Shaquonda." Being in the mood I was in, I jumped right in, introducing them to Red as "Marisol," and myself as "Hassan Al-Akbar." I then theorized that in the summer, I get dark enough to get people actually believe that is my name. I decided, loudly, that "Hassan Al-Akbar" was my new terrorist name.
I told you....I needed that shot! (The lamb was really good, too.)
Greatest Comment of the Week
A group of about 8 was in The Bar, and six of them decided to have one of our gallon bucket drinks. (Yes. Gallon. Bucket. Drink. Great concept, huh?) And the six of them suck this thing down in record time, in one fell swoop. This drink is equivalent to over 10 cocktails. This is not for the faint-hearted (or faint-livered), but at least there were six of them. (In four years of working at The Bar, I have seen exactly four people drink this bucket unassisted. An impressive feat that one day I hope to accomplish myself.)
Very shortly after sucking it down, one of the party goes to the men's room. Upon his return, he loudly utters, "I just threw up...and it tasted great!" We all cracked up! I was speechless at first. This was the oddest thing I've heard in a long time.
And the funniest part was that he was serious. He turned down mints and other such items, declaring that the taste of pineapple juice and orange juice was awesome. And he had one of the most content looks on his face of anyone who's just puked that I've ever seen. And he wasn't even drunk....he was just happy.
Changing Their Religion
(No, Michael Stipe, this is not about you. Go back to Athens and ask Kenneth for the frequency.)
A couple walks into The Bar last week, and they seem very excited. When I start talking to them, I discover that they had been looking for this one particular rum for the last year, and that they had been emailing us and found out we had it, and they couldn't wait to have that rum. Being a rum guy myself, I could relate. So I asked them which rum was the object of their year-long odyssey. "Mount Gay Vanilla. Do you have it?"
I turned around, reached over the bar, and nimbly pulled out the blue-labeled bottle they had quested for. "Woo hoo!" they exclaimed. I asked, "So you really like vanilla rum, huh?" "Yep!" "Well," I continued, "I'm about to change your religion." They looked at me quizzically.
I turned around again, grabbing a different bottle. "This is Brinley Gold Vanilla, from St. Kitt's. It is the greatest vanilla rum ever, and perhaps the best flavored rum in the world, in my humble opinion. The Mount Gay Vanilla is nice, but this blows it away." The looked at me like I was Judas himself, come to betray them to the Romansfor thirty pieces of silver. Clearly they doubted my words.
I grabbed four shot glasses and suggested a side-by-side comparison. Being adventurous (if doubtful) souls, they agreed to it. I pour a small taste of each of the vanilla rums into the shot glasses, one of each for each of them. First, I had them taste the Mount Gay Vanilla, their old friend. Their eyes lit up at the taste, apparently reminiscing about the first time they had tasted it. "This is lovely." Obviously they thought this rum was incomparable. They were, however, mistaken.
Looking skeptical, they then raised the taste of the Brinley Gold to their lips. Ad upon tasting it, their eyes went wide in pure and utter astonishment. THIS was vanilla rum from the rum gods themselves! I know that's what they were thinking, or something comparable to it, because that is what *I* thought the first time I tasted it. Unlike the clear Mount Gay Vanilla, Brinley Gold Vanilla is dark brown, the actual color of real Tahitian vanilla, with which the Brinley is made. And to those who like vanilla, rum, and vanilla rum, the taste of the Brinley is a revelation.
Their initial looks of doubt and skepticism changed to looks of awe and wonderment. "So," I asked, "which one would you like?" Without hesitation, they both ordered the Brinley. "We doubted you," he said, "but you were right. You've changed our rum religion. Thank you, Jester. Thank you!"
As they were enjoying their newfound love, Boss Man wanders up. I tell him that I've just "changed someone's religion," and he chuckles, until I tell him I'm dead serious, and that he should go talk to these fine folks. He does, and it turns out that he is the one that the guy had been emailing for the last year, searching in vain as he was for the Mount Gay Vanilla. The couple sing my praises to my boss, for which he promptly fires me, as he always does when people compliment me to him. (It's tradition, you see.)
After the guy finished his Brinley, he wistfully asks if he can have a shot of the Mount Gay Vanilla, "for old times' sake." Smiling, I pour him a shot, empathizing with him. "Sometimes, it's hard to say goodbye to an old love. But it's good to move on." He nodded agreement to my analogy, knowing that it was true, but also knowing he had found a new love. And, while the Brinley would itself be hard to find back home, it had another benefit over the Mount Gay Vanilla--Mount Gay had discontinued production of their Vanilla rum. Brinley had no such plans for theirs.
And so I continue on, educating, enlightening, and changing religions, all in the name of rum. It's times like this that I truly love my job. How sweet it is. How truly rummy and sweet it is.
Last night Red and I went out to dinner after I finished work. And I needed a drink. Not wanted. Needed. Computers had gone down at The Bar for an extended time, the bartender after me was on her first day off of training, meaning I had to stay later (though I expected this), and the computer thing had everyone on edge and testy. So when we were out later and I actually started rattling my platter on the bar with nervous pent-up energy and frustration, Red agreed that I NEEDED a shot.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. We walk into the restaurant, and the place is packed. I walk immediately to the bar, where we always sit, and somehow miraculously immediately find two open stools down by the service bar end of the bar, apparently just vacated by the previous diners. We snatched the stools quickly, and when the bartender came up and asked us if we needed drinks, I said, "Yes--I'll take the biggest funnel of beer you have!" Not missing a beat, the bartender said, "Well, we don't have a funnel. How about a large, and I keep them coming?" Red and I knew immediately we'd like this chick!
Things just got more amusing. Although they were knee deep busy, our bartender and the other one were enjoying the hell out of themselves, and when I mentioned that they and both of us were "the people of the boring names," they decided to adopt alternative names, dubbing themselves "Shanaynay" and "Shaquonda." Being in the mood I was in, I jumped right in, introducing them to Red as "Marisol," and myself as "Hassan Al-Akbar." I then theorized that in the summer, I get dark enough to get people actually believe that is my name. I decided, loudly, that "Hassan Al-Akbar" was my new terrorist name.
I told you....I needed that shot! (The lamb was really good, too.)
Greatest Comment of the Week
A group of about 8 was in The Bar, and six of them decided to have one of our gallon bucket drinks. (Yes. Gallon. Bucket. Drink. Great concept, huh?) And the six of them suck this thing down in record time, in one fell swoop. This drink is equivalent to over 10 cocktails. This is not for the faint-hearted (or faint-livered), but at least there were six of them. (In four years of working at The Bar, I have seen exactly four people drink this bucket unassisted. An impressive feat that one day I hope to accomplish myself.)
Very shortly after sucking it down, one of the party goes to the men's room. Upon his return, he loudly utters, "I just threw up...and it tasted great!" We all cracked up! I was speechless at first. This was the oddest thing I've heard in a long time.
And the funniest part was that he was serious. He turned down mints and other such items, declaring that the taste of pineapple juice and orange juice was awesome. And he had one of the most content looks on his face of anyone who's just puked that I've ever seen. And he wasn't even drunk....he was just happy.
Changing Their Religion
(No, Michael Stipe, this is not about you. Go back to Athens and ask Kenneth for the frequency.)
A couple walks into The Bar last week, and they seem very excited. When I start talking to them, I discover that they had been looking for this one particular rum for the last year, and that they had been emailing us and found out we had it, and they couldn't wait to have that rum. Being a rum guy myself, I could relate. So I asked them which rum was the object of their year-long odyssey. "Mount Gay Vanilla. Do you have it?"
I turned around, reached over the bar, and nimbly pulled out the blue-labeled bottle they had quested for. "Woo hoo!" they exclaimed. I asked, "So you really like vanilla rum, huh?" "Yep!" "Well," I continued, "I'm about to change your religion." They looked at me quizzically.
I turned around again, grabbing a different bottle. "This is Brinley Gold Vanilla, from St. Kitt's. It is the greatest vanilla rum ever, and perhaps the best flavored rum in the world, in my humble opinion. The Mount Gay Vanilla is nice, but this blows it away." The looked at me like I was Judas himself, come to betray them to the Romansfor thirty pieces of silver. Clearly they doubted my words.
I grabbed four shot glasses and suggested a side-by-side comparison. Being adventurous (if doubtful) souls, they agreed to it. I pour a small taste of each of the vanilla rums into the shot glasses, one of each for each of them. First, I had them taste the Mount Gay Vanilla, their old friend. Their eyes lit up at the taste, apparently reminiscing about the first time they had tasted it. "This is lovely." Obviously they thought this rum was incomparable. They were, however, mistaken.
Looking skeptical, they then raised the taste of the Brinley Gold to their lips. Ad upon tasting it, their eyes went wide in pure and utter astonishment. THIS was vanilla rum from the rum gods themselves! I know that's what they were thinking, or something comparable to it, because that is what *I* thought the first time I tasted it. Unlike the clear Mount Gay Vanilla, Brinley Gold Vanilla is dark brown, the actual color of real Tahitian vanilla, with which the Brinley is made. And to those who like vanilla, rum, and vanilla rum, the taste of the Brinley is a revelation.
Their initial looks of doubt and skepticism changed to looks of awe and wonderment. "So," I asked, "which one would you like?" Without hesitation, they both ordered the Brinley. "We doubted you," he said, "but you were right. You've changed our rum religion. Thank you, Jester. Thank you!"
As they were enjoying their newfound love, Boss Man wanders up. I tell him that I've just "changed someone's religion," and he chuckles, until I tell him I'm dead serious, and that he should go talk to these fine folks. He does, and it turns out that he is the one that the guy had been emailing for the last year, searching in vain as he was for the Mount Gay Vanilla. The couple sing my praises to my boss, for which he promptly fires me, as he always does when people compliment me to him. (It's tradition, you see.)
After the guy finished his Brinley, he wistfully asks if he can have a shot of the Mount Gay Vanilla, "for old times' sake." Smiling, I pour him a shot, empathizing with him. "Sometimes, it's hard to say goodbye to an old love. But it's good to move on." He nodded agreement to my analogy, knowing that it was true, but also knowing he had found a new love. And, while the Brinley would itself be hard to find back home, it had another benefit over the Mount Gay Vanilla--Mount Gay had discontinued production of their Vanilla rum. Brinley had no such plans for theirs.
And so I continue on, educating, enlightening, and changing religions, all in the name of rum. It's times like this that I truly love my job. How sweet it is. How truly rummy and sweet it is.
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