There are people who want to get as drunk as I had the night before and it’s my job to get them there.
New Year’s Eve I know I’ll spend New Year’s Eve right where I belong: behind the bar with a bottle opener in my back pocket and a martini shaker in my hand.
The DJ hadn’t even started, so I thought I had some time before amateur hour began. I was wrong.
Everyone likes booze.
With winter right around the corner, I thought I, your friendly neighborhood bartender. would share three solid tips on how to get through the next four miserable months.
When you get the results of your blood work in the mail you’re sort of left to decipher the hieroglyphics on your own.
There are a handful of sounds that exist in the universe that only bartenders understand. Our ears are trained to pick these things up from just a few feet off to entire rooms away. Say, the tap-slap of a credit card being placed down after a meal, or the clunk-splash of a 16oz glass being knocked over and spilling. And, of course, the unmistakable sploosh-splat of vomit.
There reaches a point when you should just stop, and go home while you’re ahead. Newsflash: That girl is not going to call you. She wants pizza.
As you, my little droogies, have often shown, sometimes ordering isn’t as easy as you would think.