Still wasted from the party last niiiiiigh
I am — or was at one time — a certified bartender, and one of the handy tips they taught us in class was: If someone orders a Sex on the Beach, or a Slow Comfortable Screw (whether Up Against the Wall or not), card them immediately, for they are almost certainly underage.
Man, that was a fun class.
OK, so, apropos of that advice, an article on today’s sfgate about Spring Break drinks. Now, your Gleemonex never “did” Spring Break in the MTV sense — I’ve never darkened the door of Senor Frog’s, never passed out in cheek-peeker shorts and a wet T-shirt on a bar top, never been hauled in for PI with sand and Midori in my ears, never had to call for legal help and bail money from a Tijuana jail unlike some people I know … that scene has always looked like a total nightmare to me, a date-rape-and-a-hangover waiting to happen. Plus, I spent most of my spring breaks in my dorm room, writing 40-page research papers and catching up on 2,000 pages of reading for midterms and suchlike while the cold and sleet whipped the windows. As Artie Lange would say, “WAAAAAAH.”
And this article reminds me why I hate young drinkers so goddamn much. All these asshole kids going to the bars where asshole kids hang out, ordering what their rookie friends order — beverages which are routinely terrible and/or trendy, which — ugh, grow up already. I like bars where the patrons are late 20s and up, people who know what they like and match the drink to the occasion, and aren’t constantly, tiresomely on the hunt for tail.
God, could I sound any MORE like a crotchety old lady? Who cares. Damn kids, get off my lawn!