You know you are in trouble when you order a Cosmo and 10 minutes later you see your waiter carrying cranberry juice from the bar next door. A few more minutes pass and there he is again this time carrying martini glasses. We sat there giggling wondering what else he would need to fetch from next door. Perhaps we should save him the trouble and actually move to the next bar. 25 minutes after ordering our drinks our waiter sheepishly approaches and quietly says
“I am so sorry but our martini glasses have a dysfunction.”
“Really?” we say, suppressing laughter. “What shall we do?”
“Well, can I suggest that I bring them in wine glasses?”
We sighed with apparent despair. “Ohhh. Alright then. But the glasses are the best bit!”
He didn’t quite grasp the concept of a group of girls ordering drinks because they liked the glasses. He apparently had no idea that most of the fun of a Cosmo was the martini glass.
A Martini glass holds within its shape a whisper of promise. Of nights full of romance and sophistication; of nights when we can imagine ourselves wearing white, heels sharp and hair all a gloss. It is not just a glass. It is the moment when we can forget for a moment the drudgery of the morning, crawling under the table on all floors to scrape scrambled eggs off the carpet. It is a sharp contrast to the tumbler of water or juice we chug down between carpools and a far cry from the warm tea we drink at night all cozy in pajamas. No, the Martini glass represents another life where we can pretend just for one night that we are someone different. That is why we love the Martini glass, with the drink carefully prepared, shaken, not stirred.
When he finally delivered the drinks he told us that “no one will even know! People will just think you are drinking pink wine!” He seemed very proud of his reasoning.
But that was the exact reason we wanted the glasses. Who drinks bright pink wine?
Anyway the Cosmos were delicious.