| | I went down to the hotel bar for a quick adult beverage and to see if my colleague had returned from the city yet. He had not, but I had a most amusing time.
First of all, if Ashwin Kumar had ever just opened a bar instead of letting his son run a TV show, I've found the bar. (If you've never seen The Kumars at No. 42, you owe yourself.) He would almost be Basil Fawlty on an incompetence scale, but he is exceedingly polite, as most Indians I have met are (a positive stereotype for a people scarred by doing too much remote tech support.) The head bartender (and I believe bar manager) is a completely overworked, almost elegant Indian gentleman trying to keep order, instruct the (incompetent in his eyes) staff and serve drinks to his customers, and between his running around and the customers either confused, annoyed or bemused by the service (depending on the number of drinks they've consumed), it is quite a show.
One gentleman ordered two pints to go before paying his tab and mentioned that the beer was preventing him from killing someone. I didn't think the service was quite that bad, but we all have our tolerance levels. This gentleman is also dear to me because he had a sneezing fit that was comperable to (if not greater than) one of mine, and he said "I must be allergic to beer." (I would never think such a thing. I would blame it on the glass.) I told him he needed to drink faster or slower, but I wasn't sure which. He said faster was always better, so I deferred to experience. I also told him if the top of a beer made him sneeze, he should just send it back and start over.
I ordered a Scotch and Coke, because the Beatles used to drink it a lot (according to many quotes in various books), and I've simply never had the nerve to order it in the States because the bartenders there generally know me, and they don't like ruining good Scotch. I told "Ashwin" to use the house Scotch so nothing of much value would be harmed. (It was Bell's, which is probably just above rotgut.) Scotch and Coke with cheap Scotch and Pepsi (curse hotel tie-ups with the wrong brand) is actually not bad. The Coke (Pepsi) takes the edge off the Scotch, so if you don't like Scotch, it would probably make it palatable. It's not like Boone Farms wine, and it shouldn't have an umbrella, but if you don't like the taste of Scotch, this would help. Personally, I like Scotch, so while it was an amusing little drink, it's not going to make my usual rotation. "Ashwin" asked if I was going to pay cash or charge it to my room. I said "room", he rang it up, I said "Can you just keep it open?" and he said "No, your room number goes there, and sign it please." So I did.
I ordered a refill (eventually.) Same procedure. That's when I began to notice everyone around me was running a tab. Considering I've had bartenders start tabs for me when I walk in off the street into a bar I've never visited (even when the locals have to pay cash per round), I found this strange. Bartenders usually look at me and think "He's good for it and he's going to need more than one." So it goes. Maybe "keep it open" is not English, but American.
After that, I decided to apologize to the gods of single malt, so I ordered Glenfiddich, one of the few single malt Scotch whiskies I can pronounce sober. (Did I do that joke already?)
Actually, I decided to see how long it would take to have him ask me if I wanted another drink. After serving at least four people and having a discussion with one about how to mix his tomato juice (the guy also asked for his bill, but that part was missed), and then spending five minutes actually mixing the tomato juice (with a splash of Tobasco and something from the seltzer gun), he finally asked if I would like something else. That's when I asked for Glenfiddich. They were out. Well, he couldn't find the bottle, so he announced they were out. There were two different vintages of Glenfiddich on the menu, so that's out of a lot. I asked what single malts they had and when he got to Laphroaig, I said that was fine. I said "straight up, with just a couple of rocks." To my horror, he put Coke in it. So, I sent it back. He looked pained as seven pounds fifty went down the drain, but nobody said anything about Coke. I had planned to tell him I was done with kids' drinks and wanted a real one, but I didn't think he would necessarily understand. Maybe that would have helped. Coke and single malt? Shudder.
After that drink order, I was awarded a small bowl of crisps. They were a bit stale, but it's the thought that counts. I've been in this bar every night since I've been here, and he's the only one who's ever gotten me a drink, so I really thought I would be a regular by now.
I may have to go back later this evening, since one of the goals was to meet my colleague, since I left him in the city hours ago and he does like a Scotch to finish the evening. I would really like to know if he gets less manic as the place clears out (I doubt it.) I would also like to know if I go and say "I'd like to run a tab" first, if that would help. I've been tipping them on each round, and that didn't seem normal with the crankier customers that were leaving. One of the other staff told me they're open until 1am. I don't have a plane until 2:30pm tomorrow afternoon. This could be a fun night. (Note to Spousal Unit: it's called research.)
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| | Posted 4/23/2009 5:22 PM - 13 Views - 0 eProps - 0 comments
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