When this Lush first started bar hopping around Boston, she loathed the process of ordering drinks.
I think I can trace it back to my semester abroad in Prague, ordering drinks from surly bartenders who resented me for my American accent and loudmouth friends.
But your Lush, being an analytical kind of gal, also blames those Disaronno commercials. You know, with the attractive patron and barmaid. You're hearing that obnoxious song in your head right now. The couple exchanges a total of six words and manages to connect amaretto over ice with an air of confidence, maturity, sex appeal, wealth, great fashion sense and, inexplicably, flawless dermatological care.
This will never happen in real life. The bartender will not be that attracted to you, nor will he be so impressed with your drink choice that the DJ will suddenly slow the music down and put a dazzling spotlight on your glass. Also, no one thinks that ice cubes are so side-splittingly hilarious.
So instead of sexy barmaid and hunky patron, let's imagine your humble Lush at the bar instead. It's Boston - no, let's say Cambridge - so it has either rained, snowed or hailed on me. And since it's Cambridge, the bartender hates me for not knowing the secret code words Cantabrigians use when they're out on the scene. Also, I cannot look directly at him due to the shiny glare from either his facial piercings or his thick coat of hair gel.
So when I have to order, I've got to do it right. Everybody has been watching me since I opened the door to let in the winter cold, and only my drink choice can redeem my honor.
When it comes time to make a selection, I consider beer or wine. But if the place offers only Molson on tap and every third person is drinking one of those God-awful Budweiser Selects (low-carb beer - the third sign of the apocalypse), then beer is out. And if I start hitting the red wine at 10:30, by 10:50 or so I'll be nodding off onto someone else's coaster.
Here's where a Standard Mixed Drink Order comes in handy. You know, The Usual. It took me a while to find mine - vodka and soda - but not too long. I got pretty sick of navigating crowds of people jostling for attention just to stare at the pretty bottles or locate a sticky cocktail list.
Maybe vodka and soda is a little boring, but I'm not the biggest fan of the so-called "Girly Drink" genre. It's not because the stigma sets my inner feminist to fist-shaking (and it does), but because the more complicated and elaborate the drink ingredients, the greater the chance of receiving a Grade-A Crappy Drink. And there's nothing worse than having to repeat the name of your drink several times only to see the befuddled mixer consult an electronic guide with furrowed brow (Via Matta, please train your bartenders in the fine arts of caipirinhas).
So I want a drink that's foolproof, one that even a Lushier-than-thou bartender can't sour with his disdain for my complete lack of charisma in the trendy bar I'm trying to scope out. But if they're ever out of Stoli, then the Lush will just have whatever you're having.
Kate Peck is a senior majoring in English. She can be reached at Katherine.Peck@tufts.edu.
