I like the sort of bars which allow me to buy drinks for other people.
The sending and receiving of a drink from a stranger is such a lost art. Fears of being drugged and roofied, the lack of etiquette, the selfish desire to not be “topped” or to show vulnerability… all of those things fight, collectively, to end one of the most precious and sincere openings of life.
We all go out to bars and clubs and places and too much, at least in this city of mine, it’s to see and be seen. Despite being of age and hopefully of some maturity, we revert to our junior high selves, separated by the invisible windows, peering through invisible panes at what we want to meet and touch and know, but are unwilling to break the invisible glass for.
So, send the pretty girl a drink. Or, pretty girl, send the handsome girl a drink. And, bartender, pay attention, you’re the most important part in this exchange; properly convey the respect intended with the regards being sent.
Break the glass. Stop posing. Greet with a nice glass of Barolo, a neat scotch, an exquisitely-made cocktail, a frosty pint.
A martini; shaken, not stirred.
I can’t think of a nicer hello – can you?