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Looking for a quiet drink and dinner after a long day at a conference in Chicago, I took a seat at the bar in a somewhat pricey chop house. The lady on the other side of the bar looked at me and said: Scotch.

Two seats down from me was a guy a few decades my senior. Before I could respond or even get out as much as a greeting, he said “No. He's a beer drinker! He wants a Bud Light.”

“No way. Look at him! Bud Light drinkers do not dress like that.”

My drink of choice is in fact Glenlivet 18, which was not an option. Instead, I ordered a Glenlivet 12 on the rocks, quickly put together by the bartender whose name tag read “Deborah.”

Looking knowingly back at the regular who was giving her a hard time, Deborah added, “And he sounds like Richard Dreyfuss.”

I laughed. I've heard that one before.

“Laughs like him, too.”

Deborah grinned triumphantly and turned her attention to a customer at the other end of the bar. I was happy. I had my Scotch.

Created by cmcurtin
Last modified 2007-07-28 02:33 PM
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