On The Rocks

I think a lot about the best drink order I ever witnessed.

I was at the late, great Alcatraz, a metal bar on the corner of St. Mark’s and A one evening in the mid-1990s, and a disgusted looking gentleman walked in and slumped down on the bar stool next to me.

“Glass’a shit on the rocks”, he grumbled to the bartender.

A moment later, the bartender grabbed a bottle of the cheapest whiskey they had in the place, threw some ice in a rocks glass, and poured the gentleman his drink.

Before drinking even a drop of it, the look of disgust had disappeared from the gentleman’s face, replaced by a smile, the kind of smile a person gets when they feel truly understood by another person.

“Thank you”, he said.

One thought on “On The Rocks

  1. Sick Mick says:

    The client knew his shit along with his purveyor. That’s classic these days since nobody seems to speak the same language. Schei├če auf die Felsenin (Shit on the rocks) for example, would probably have been served in Germany in a safer plastic rocks glass that could withstand the impact.
    I think this story points out how gratification can be exchanged from like minds. It doesn’t necessarily have to happen over a drink order. I dig it. Sometimes I like sweat from a Scandinavian Goddess dripped slowly over a cryo ice cube in a gold leaf rimmed rock glass. I have no idea how to order that unless I can point. I haven’t had that drink yet as I usually receive shit on the rocks. I like that it took one grumble that lead to one gesture to make one guy’s day better, even for a moment. The best part of my days are understanding someone else that understands me at least slightly. Alcatraz. \m/

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