Tuesday, August 18, 2009


It was sudden. Plans to go for an outing after a long Monday usually are. I reached home, chatted with a friend, and finally got around to talking to my cousin. Then, suddenly, I felt like being out. Dressed up out – even though I was really tired. There’s a Firangi Paani just down the road from where I live, so I asked my cousin if he wanted to come along.

We went. Neither of us changed. I just slipped into a pair of heels that warranted a rick-ride. There’s no way I can walk on Bandra slopes in heels. My cousin was very reluctant to rick such a short distance though. We could practically see the restaurant lit up in its ruby-red glory from where we were standing. “It’s close by”, he said.

“I can’t walk in these heels.”

And although he didn’t say it, I could guess what he was thinking: ‘Then don’t wear them.’

Since it was Monday, it was relatively empty. Nice. There was a smattering of people on different tables – mostly with pitchers of cocktails. The watermelon cocktail looked particularly fetching. Perhaps because of the lady who was having it. She was the only one who had ‘dressed up’. She wore a mustard and red halter dress in cotton and very pretty snakeskin sandals. Her nails were painted a bright purple and she wore some delicate gold rings – all on her thumb.

I was in the mood for a cocktail too – something sweet, frosty and heady. I was really tempted to order a strawberry daiquiri. My nails are painted red now. And I was wearing golden high-heels. I wanted a daiquiri.

But my stupid vow to not have liquor anymore started pounding inside my head. So I sulked and looked through the wine list again – hoping to find some fine print that would free me from my stupid self-imposed restriction.

I was taking really long with my ordering. The waiter tapped his pencil, shuffled his feet, looked at my cousin who shrugged his shoulders, and waited. Waited. Waited.

“Anything particular you are looking for?”, he asked me finally.

Then I began my story. Of how I’d given up alcohol but I still remember how good it tasted. And also how I’d like to try something that was non-alcoholic, but still had the same kind of bite.

“Can you make me a virgin strawberry daiquiri?”, I asked him.

“Without the liquor, it’ll just be a lot of ice and syrup, ma’am”, he informed me. “It won’t have the…bite.”

Now, I’m not sure, but I do think he was taunting me.

“Umm…”, I mumbled. Then poured over the list again.

“I could do one thing…”, he started.


“I could get you a chilled Coke.”

“A COKE!”, I snapped. Wow! As far as recommendations go, wasn’t he a big help?

“Yes…it’s cold, sweet, with a bite…and we can just call it a virgin Long Island Iced Tea.”

My cousin burst out laughing. I tried to look offended, but smiled nevertheless. Wit – that’s a toast I’ll always clink to.


Neo said...

No esprit d'escalier ?

Mukta said...

Quest'ce que c'est?

Neo said...

Staircase wit.
I think i heard this term in some Quentin Tarantino's Movie. I am not really sure.
You can read about it here - http://wordsmith.org/words/esprit_d_escalier.html

And i love your posts. I just never comment :p

arsh said...

umm next time in a mood to ve a cocktail without alcohol try virgin bloody mary... even with alcohol it tastes awfully of yucky tomato juice...

kama said...

This was a very visual post. I felt like I *saw* the entire anecdote in front of me.

Anonymous said...

ahahahahahaha .... a coke ... the waiter really had a sense of humor ... hahahahaa

The Idle Devil said...

I've been there...sighs! Once tried to order Virgin Sex on the Beach and everyone around me laughed including the waiter.

Karthik Sivaramakrishnan said...


and LOL@The Idle Devil