Sunday, March 25, 2012

What your drink of choice says (to me)

Perhaps for people less neurotic than myself, everyday choices like what to order at a bar are not fraught with anxiety. This may be one reason why I'm generally content to go to eateries where the most exotic item on the drinks menu is Mr. Pibb. It is an unfortunate reality that such establishments also frequently hand out crayons with their color-by-number children's menus--and now that I find myself joining (however unwillingly) the young urban professional crowd, Applebee's just doesn't cut it for business lunches.
Why the anxiety over the drink order, above all else? Because when you choose that drink, you know you are being judged--by the bartender, by the server (should he/she serve as an intermediary between you and your spirituous elixir) and by your friends. Maybe not overtly. Maybe not even consciously. But the judgement is there. So, in the interest of fairness, I decided it might be fun to expound on what various drink orders mean to me--that is, what I think of you when I hear them. Keep in mind this isn't a rating scale; it's something much less objective (though I hope not mean-spirited. Pun intended).

Cosmopolitan (almost always shortened by those who order them to the Sex-and-The-City-level-annoying 'Cosmo'): If you order a Cosmo you are, in my mind, a gay man. Perhaps I'm only saying this because it's my conviction that gay men are the only ones who SHOULD order the Cosmo. Ladies, accept that it's theirs now, just like rainbow flags, Fire Island and Ricky Martin.

Stoli Vanil and Diet Coke: They should just call this the 'Roving packs of sorority girls in six inch heels.' There's no shame in liking how this tastes, but really you should be going to Sonic and getting yourself a Route 44 Diet Vanilla Coke to spike like God intended. Bonus-- you can get a footlong Coney while you're there and have some calories to sop up the liquor. As girls-night-out drinks go, this is only a step away from:

Any 'tini' that doesn't start with 'mar': Green appletini, pomegranatini, mangotini (true fact--I once saw this misspelled on a drink menu as 'maggotini' and had to resist a very strong urge to vomit, which is generally how these overly-sweet drinks affect me anyhow). These bear no relation to martinis whatsoever; they share only that they are served in martini glasses--so calling such a drink a 'pomegranate martini' is like equating beef stew and sorbet just because both are served in bowls. And don't think I'm necessarily advocating for the original, gin-and-vermouth-and-that's-it martini, either. Tastes like a damn Christmas tree.

Jack (Daniels) and Coke: The drink of a superior human being, and I'm not just saying that because it's my personal favorite. As with most drinks, the most important thing is getting a good balance of ingredients. I'm not paying five bucks for what is basically a small glass of soda. On the other hand, I've also been served three fingers of whiskey masquerading as a Jack and Coke, which is undesirable for other reasons. Order it as a Jack and Diet and it's a drink for everyone--neither too butch nor too femme.

PBR: If you have the financial resources available to buy other beverages but choose PBR instead, we probably don't have anything to talk about. I don't want to know about your extensive vinyl collection or your MacBook Pro or your ironic mustache, and anyway why are you wearing a scarf in July? No one REALLY likes the taste of PBR, just like no one REALLY likes the taste of diet Coke. They just drink it because if they drank the same volume of Coca-Cola they would weigh 600 pounds (or, in the case of PBR, because they're cooler-than-thou hipsters who don't know the difference between genuine enjoyment and ironic deconstruction).


KCTH said...

uh oh: what's a PBR?

Anne said...

Pabst Blue Ribbon, once a proud blue collar beer, now drunk 99.9% of the time for ironic value.