Yeah, your brand of weird gets totally normalized if you spend enough time in New York City

I was at a Thai restaurant last night with Tom and Scott, looking over the signature cocktail menu. I didn't see one that really was calling my name. And, of course, I would never order my go-to bourbon drinks in a Thai restaurant. It's too much cognitive dissonance for even me. So I vaguely waved my hand and asked for a vodka tonic. 

Half a screenshot of the cocktail menu at Laut Thai.

And then I halted mid-sentence. 

"Do you have Fever Tree?" I asked in a panicked voice because I was, in fact, slightly panicked. 

I would certainly never drink tonic that came out of a bar gun. Tonic from a gun always has that bitter taste of under-bar tube slime and the bubble quotient is extremely variable. Also I don't like tonic from a previously opened plastic bottle. It doesn't fizz properly. No thank you sir. I like Fever Tree tonic from a single use glass bottle. 

Anyway, the Thai restaurant did not have Fever Tree and so I changed my order to a more Thai-forward cocktail the waiter recommended. It was fine. The waiter did not bat an eyelash. He's used to my kind.

I checked the ice cube upon arrival like I always do. There should only be one cube and it needs to be perfectly square and fill up the whole bottom of the glass. It also should be clear with no bubbles in it.

I say all this to say, obviously, I do not order cocktails anywhere outside these five boroughs. Or at least anywhere I haven't thoroughly scoped out with great intensity and suspicion. I have learned some hard lessons, my friends. My first world New York City bona fides are cordially insufferable.

But look, recall that one time upstate, in a whiskey bar no less. When I ordered an old fashioned. I took a winger because yeah, WHISKEY BAR. With a shelf of FANCY BOURBON. And then the bartender has no idea what bitters are and at the very end of her mixology, she whips out her bar gun and, to my great horror, adds A SPLASH OF COKE to my drink.

A SPLASH OF COKE in my old fashioned. I was BESIDE MYSELF. I looked around, did anyone else see what just happened here? The murder of my beverage? I couldn't even drink it. Also she used those tiny ice cubes that instantly melt into stale water in T minus two minutes? I just cannot with any of that.

So for me, my safe drink for questionable circumstances is Makers neat with ice in one glass and water in another. Both on the side if you please. So I can fully inspect the goings on and make my peace with it on my own terms.

Tom, Scott and I continue to discuss the tragic and deeply disturbing food and beverages we have experienced out of town and then Scott says he was with a colleague from North Carolina in the airport one time and she wanted to go to the Prada duty-free store while they waited for their flight.

Scott was like, ugh, sure go ahead. He must have looked quizzical because the colleague said, you New York people really don't get it, do you.

Scott was like, Get what?

The colleague said, designer duty free stores.

Scott replied, umm, they're cheaper because duty-free and all?

The colleague said, sure. And also WE DO NOT HAVE PRADA STORES IN MY TOWN. We do not have these kinds of stores!

Oh wow! My eyebrows went up. I was on Team Scott for this one. Never ever even considered this. There are three Prada stores I could get to in twenty minutes or less and that doesn't count Saks 5th Avenue, Nordstrom or idk. I can't imagine you couldn't find any designer your heart desired in that mall in Hudson Yards.

three prada stores.

We were in Ocean City Maryland in August with the family and for sure, it was nice. Also, I had to get three side dishes at a restaurant for my main meal because they had exactly zero vegan entrees or even salads not smeared with bacon grease on the menu. 

In many many years in NYC I have never encountered a restaurant without ample accommodations for any bizarre dietary preference or allergy, alone or in combination. They probably have a plate of moss at the ready sitting in the fridge next to a shank of raw meat for the exact opposite somebody else at another table.

In Ocean City, I don't think there was a vegan dish in that whole entire town. I don't think there was a vegetarian dish either. And look, I'm not even all that picky, but when even the green beans come in a bed of ground beef, shit gets tricky. 

You probably couldn't get a prada wallet on a moments notice either.