I was neck-deep in Friday evening’s furious bar push, manning my station against the drunken hordes, when a polo-shirted fellow approached me out of the swarm and flagged me down. He was clearly an ambassador for a larger group that was cowering in a bewildered clump behind him.
“A Spotted Cow.”
“Anything else?” I inquired, glancing towards the rest of his clan.
He turned around to the others in his party: “What’d you guys want?”
The question was met with blank stares.
“I’ll check back when you’re all ready. Here’s a drink list. Let me know if you have any questions.”
The group had their act together, I have to say; they were ready in a matter of moments. The Polo-Shirted Ambassador ordered for everyone, ticking each drink off on one of his fingers. “Okay, we’ll have two Spotted Cows, a Warped Speed Scotch Ale, a spicy bloody mary, a Captain and Coke, and a virgin vodka tonic.”
“I’m sorry, what was that last one?” Did I hear that correctly?
“So, a tonic water?”
“No,” the Ambassador repeated, “a virgin vodka tonic.”
“How would you like me to make that?”
“However you normally would.”
I put together the round of assorted beverages as I pondered what to do about the virgin vodka tonic. In the end, I just went with my first instinct and poured some tonic water into a tub and garnished it with a lime. What’s the worst that could happen?
“How’s the drink?” I asked the recipient of the virgin vodka tonic a few minutes later.
“It’s perfect,” she said.
Photo of Polo Douche courtesy of www.honeybuy.com; vodka tonic pic is courtesy of www.noclipmode.com