The lock released with a loud buzz and he pushed the heavy outer door inward. He couldn't exactly remember which apartment his friend lived in but he was mostly sure it was on the third floor. Seeing as he took a cab all the way here he figured he might as well climb the stairs instead of riding the elevator.
When he . . .
The bartender didn't seem bothered by his request for a spoonful of absinthe in his martini. Normally he took a martini as any sensible person would: gin with a touch of vermouth and a squeeze of lemon oil to garnish. Today, however, he was in the mood for something slightly different.
To anyone looking at his drink . . .
As he crossed the tracks on Canal he could faintly make out the gruff voice of a trombone from deep within the Quarter. He glanced down at his wrist out of habit and laughed because he had intentionally left his watch at the hotel. No matter. Crossing this historic street was as close to stepping back in time as one can get. The . . .
The time had come. It was do or die. If he dawdled it would all be a waste. The pearlescent liquid winked at him in the bottom of the straight sided crystal glass. "Goodbye."
No longer flirting with freezing temperatures the drink had grown-up. Mellowed. Aged. He remembered only ten minutes ago when it was fierce . . .
Water sputtered out of the tap as he turned the knobs to full blast. He couldn't remember the last time he actually drew a bath for himself. While the water ran he went to make a drink in the kitchen. A tub cocktail would surely help during the soak.
He looked funny standing in the kitchen; bare-chested with a stiff . . .
6:30 sharp...or YOU have to make the drinks!
For the last few months, my wife and I have been enjoying a cocktail hour at home. This is a daily thing unless we happen to be out for some reason. It is in both of our calendars and whoever is late has to make the drinks...which are martinis more often than not.
Why Cocktail Hour?
We are both pretty intense in . . .
The old gas lamps reflected off the shiny brick streets due to the on and off rain. It always rained around this time of the year down here he thought. His leather soles echoed down the narrow streets in rhythmic staccato slaps. He had undertaken the futile task of tracking down the umbrella he started the night with but currently . . .