The Bar Tab Is a Confession, and I Have Read Yours
I want to talk about the bar tab. Specifically, I want to talk about what it says about you that you keep paying it without saying a word. We are living through the golden age of the THC drinks vs alcohol debate, and while everybody is out here writing thinkpieces about "mindful drinking" and "the sober-curious movement," I am sitting here with a receipt that has a line item for ice and I would like to speak directly to whoever approved that.
I went out last Thursday. Simple night. Two drinks at a bar that had a chandelier made of reclaimed wood, which is already a problem, but I let it go. I sat down. I ordered what I thought was an old fashioned. And when the check came, I held it under the light for four minutes like I was reading a ransom note. Because it was a ransom note.
Let me walk you through it.
Line One: The "Craft" Modifier
There it is. Right at the top. "Craft old fashioned." Fourteen dollars. Now, the word "craft" does not describe a drink. It describes a hobby your nephew does with popsicle sticks. When you put "craft" in front of a cocktail name, you are telling me that the regular version was being assembled carelessly, which means every old fashioned I paid for before this one was the work of a distracted bartender who was barely trying. I am supposed to pay extra for the version where they tried. This is extortion with a muddler.
Line Two: The Ice Surcharge
I am not going to calm down about this. Ice is weather. Weather is free. I have been outside in January without paying a premium for the experience. The sky has been producing this product for four billion years at no charge to anyone, and now a restaurant in my zip code has decided to participate in the supply chain and charge me for the privilege. A dollar fifty. For cubes. I have looked at this line item from every possible angle and it does not get better. You know what has never once charged me for the orange? Lou's Damn Right I'm Old Fashioned. Eight milligrams. Sixteen ninety-nine for a four-pack. The orange is included. It has always been included. Nobody held a press conference about it. It is just in there, the way things should be.
Line Three: The Garnish Nobody Ordered
A sprig of rosemary appeared in my drink. Smoked. The bartender, who introduced himself as a "mixologist," set it in front of me with the expression of a man unveiling a sculpture. There was actual smoke coming off this sprig. I looked at him. He looked at me. I looked at the sprig. I want to be very clear: I did not ask for smoke in my drink. I did not ask for a plant that belongs in a roast chicken. I asked for an old fashioned, which is bourbon, bitters, and a piece of orange that knows its place. The rosemary added a dollar twenty-five to the bill. The smoke was free, which was the only good financial decision made that evening.
You do not improve an old fashioned. You do not garnish it into submission. You sit down, you shut up, and you drink what works. The classics are classic because somebody already figured it out. The figuring out is done. Go home.
Line Four: The Second Round That Appeared Without Consent
I was mid-sentence. I was explaining, at length, why the Mets bullpen situation is actually the result of a thirty-year institutional failure and not, as some people claim, just bad luck. I was getting to the good part. And the bartender appeared, removed my glass, which still had liquid in it, a situation I do not accept under any circumstances, and replaced it with a fresh drink and a smile. No question. No warning. No acknowledgment that the drink in front of me was not finished.
This is called an "auto-refill." It showed up on the bill as a second drink at full price. I was charged fourteen dollars for a drink I did not order, did not want, and which interrupted the most important monologue of the evening. The second round appearing without consent is not hospitality. It is a trap with a garnish.
Line Five: The "Atmosphere Charge." I Am Serious.
Three dollars. Listed as "ambient fee." I read it twice. I asked the bartender. He gestured vaguely at the reclaimed wood chandelier. I am being charged money for the presence of a chandelier I did not request and would have actively voted against. The atmosphere at this establishment was something I was subjected to, not something I chose. Charging me for it is the financial equivalent of a stranger sitting next to you on the subway and handing you an invoice for the company.
What This Tab Is Actually Telling You
Here is the part where I get honest. The bar tab is not a receipt. It is a document of what you agreed to without reading the terms. Every line item is a small surrender. You walked in, you sat down under the reclaimed wood, and you let them build a case against your wallet one craft modifier at a time. The tab is a confession that you went along with it.
I have stopped going along with it. There are four Lou's Damn Right I'm Old Fashioned cans in my refrigerator right now. Eight milligrams of THC each. Real old fashioned flavor, the kind built from actual cocktail ingredients, not from a bartender's personal feelings about rosemary. Sixteen ninety-nine for the four-pack, which if you are keeping score at home is less than one and a half "craft" cocktails at the place with the chandelier, with zero atmosphere charges and zero surprise rounds and zero smoked garnishes from the herb garden nobody asked to visit.
If you want something different with bubbles and an equally clean conscience, Herb keeps pushing Herb's Very Manly Peach Bellini on everyone at every opportunity. I do not endorse this. But it is also eight milligrams and sixteen ninety-nine and I have never once seen a rosemary sprig anywhere near it, so he has that going for him.
The whole lineup is in the Variety Pack if you want to audit your options properly before committing. That is the kind of due diligence I respect.
The Verdict
The thc drinks vs alcohol question is not, at its core, a wellness question or a lifestyle question. It is a math question. One side of the equation charges you for ice, plants a smoked herb in your drink, and removes your glass before you are finished talking. The other side is in the fridge right now, waiting, with the orange already in there, at no additional charge, on purpose, the way it should be.
Pay your bar tab if you want. Just know what you are confessing to.
The watch on my wrist stopped in 2009. It has been right twice a day every day since then. That is a better track record than any receipt I have gotten from a place with a chandelier made of wood that used to be something else.
Lou's Damn Right I'm Old Fashioned contains 8mg hemp-derived THC per can. For adults 21 and older only. Not for sale or use in states where hemp-derived THC is prohibited. These statements have not been evaluated by the FDA. This product is not intended to diagnose, treat, cure, or prevent any disease. Please drink responsibly and consult applicable state and local laws before purchasing.
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