A Vote of No Confidence

The Midwest, Earlier this Year

I had heard of a new bar and event venue was opening in my town, which wasn’t going to be owned and operated by the local Robber-Baron. I was excited that I would soon have a watering hole that wouldn’t make the Robber-Baron’s entitled offspring $15 per drink more insufferable.

Living in a smallish town means going to a handful of establishments and eliminating half every week because “I was there last week.”  

I had heard the new venue was being remodeled, but i hadn’t been following the developments because I do not have a FaceBook, Twitter, or Instagram account. This is why I have connected, social butterfly friends, and they have me. I make them feel good by being in-the-know, and they feel good for making me in-the-know. 

I was running late to happy hour at this new venue because work hates to be done, even when I am. My in-the-know friend was already into her cosmo when I spotted her. 

The bartender who may or may not have been old enough to drink himself handed me a drink menu. I glanced at it quickly, but after a day of beating my workload into submission, there was one drink that I really wanted: an Aviation. 

In my town, I have to preface my order with a question: “By chance do you have a …?” 

Yes, I actually use phrases like “by chance.” Also, the wordier I am, the politer I feel. This word-salad also leaves open the door that if I use too many words, the listener may not even know that I am asking them to do something. If they don’t do the thing I asked, no harm no foul. Maybe they didn’t understand so that’s my fault, and maybe they understood and couldn’t do it. Either way, I’m not salty that the thing I asked the person to do wasn’t done because it could have been at least 50 percent my fault it didn’t occur. 

If I am direct in my question and they say no, I get resentful. It’s a character flaw. One I openly admit yet will not fix.  

My order was wordier than usual because I could see that the bar, although stocked, seemed to not have enough shelves to have been well stocked. 

Me: Excuse me. I have a question for you because I’ve never been here before. By chance, do you have creme de violette, so you’d be able to make me an Aviation? I’d like it with Bombay Sapphire if you can make one. 

Bartender: Creme de violette? 

Me: It’s a pretty purple violet flavored liquor. 

Bartender: Yeah, no,

Me: Ok, thanks, I’ll need a minute. 

I wasn’t surprised they couldn’t make me one. I would have been pleasantly surprised if they could have. 

In my defense, this venue was clearly trying to go after the monied hipster, I-drive-a-pristine-1983-Volvo-wagon class. If a last-to-know-anything nerd knew about Aviations, the bar should have had a bottle of creme de violet on hand. I wasn’t being a pretentious ass; there was a bottle of WhistlePig 18 on the shelf. 

I couldn’t think of anything else I really wanted to drink, so I ordered my fallback. 

Me: Ok, I’ll have a very dirty Bombay Sapphire martini.

The kid throws me a confused look: Bombay what?

Me: Sapphire? Gin? Blue, squarish bottle. 

Bartender: Nope. I’ll bring over the gins we have. 

He then proceeds to bring me two bottles that say gin. One is hibiscus. The other rhubarb. 

I don’t think he was messing with me. He was dull, not cocky. He earned his tips with his face and not his wit. 

I don’t know if he knew that “dirty” meant olive juice or if he knew what either hibiscus or rhubarb were. If he knew the meaning of some of these words, he would have known that either a dirty hibiscus martini or a dirty rhubarb martini would be disgusting. No one would drink that concoction unless it was on a dare, you were already very drunk and it was free, or you were a hand sanitizer drinking alcoholic who needed a fix.

I was clearly getting nowhere in the gin category. I grabbed a menu and pointed at something. 

Bartender: Yeah, no. I can’t make that. We’re out of orange vodka, 

Me: Old Style? 

Bartender: The keg’s spent. We only have bottles. 

Me: Yeah, sure. 

—-

For reference, an Aviation is:

2 oz. gin

¾ oz. fresh lemon juice

½ oz. maraschino cherry juice*

¼ oz. creme de violette

1 maraschino cherry*

*Extra points awarded if the bar stocks Luxardo cherries