Lou Has Reviewed the Receipt and Would Like a Word
I got the receipt. I have it right here. I am looking at it. And I need everybody to stop what they are doing because there is a line item on this bill that I have to read aloud so that a civilized society can weigh in.
"Glassware fee: $4.00."
Four dollars. For the glass. The glass that the drink came in. The glass that I handed back to the bartender the moment I was done with it. The glass I did not keep. The glass I did not break. The glass that is, as of this moment, being washed and handed to the next person, who will also be charged four dollars for the temporary privilege of holding it.
This is not a glass, by the way. I want to be very clear about this. I know what an artisanal glass looks like. I have seen artisanal glassware. This was a rocks glass from a restaurant supply store. I know this because I have been to a restaurant supply store. You can buy forty of these glasses for twenty-two dollars and they come in a cardboard box with no ceremony whatsoever. And that is fine. That is correct. That is what a glass is supposed to be. A glass is a container. It is not an experience. It is not a journey. It is not art.
The bartender called it "hand-selected." I did not ask what that meant. I was afraid of the answer.
The Full Audit, Line by Line
Since I have the receipt out anyway, let us go through the whole thing. Because the glass was not even the worst part. The glass was simply the part that broke me.
Ice: included, but only because they forgot to charge for it separately. I am watching. I have been watching the ice situation for three years. Ice is weather. You did not make the ice. The sky made the ice. You put it in a machine. You do not get to feel good about yourself for the ice.
The "craft garnish." There was an orange peel on my old fashioned. One orange peel, expressed and discarded in under four seconds, twisted by a guy who had clearly practiced the twist and wanted me to know it. That was not a garnish. That was a performance. I did not buy a ticket to a performance. I bought a drink.
The "ambient fee." I am not making this up. Ambient fee. For the music. There was no music. There was a speaker in the corner playing something that I can only describe as the sound a sad man makes when he learns that vinyl is back. That cost me three dollars. I paid three dollars to hear that.
And then the glass. Four dollars. For the glass. For the rocks glass that has served, conservatively, eight thousand customers before me and will serve eight thousand more after me, each of whom will also hand over four dollars and say nothing because we have all collectively agreed to lose our minds.
I said something. I want that on record. I said something.
What a THC Cocktail Actually Costs You (Hint: Not the Glass)
Here is what I do now. I go home. I open the fridge. I crack open Lou's Damn Right I'm Old Fashioned and I drink it out of whatever glass I want, including no glass, including directly from the can like a person who has made peace with himself. Eight milligrams of THC. Real cocktail flavor, real bitters, real oak, real orange. No ambient fee. No hand-selected rocks glass. No man with a twist performing for me in a dim room.
The only glass in this transaction is the one I chose. And I chose it from my own cabinet. And I did not charge myself for it. Because I am not a criminal.
That is an alcohol alternative worth talking about. No hangover the next morning. No receipt with a line item for the container the drink was served in. Just the drink. Just eight milligrams of THC doing what it is supposed to do, which is take the edge off and make the room a little funnier. It is in the fridge right now if you want to try the experiment yourself.
If you are not sure which can to start with, get The Variety Pack. All four cans. Lou's Damn Right I'm Old Fashioned, Mary's M Train Double Espresso Martini, Jane's Fancy Shmancy Pomegranate Cosmopolitan, and Herb's Very Manly Peach Bellini. Sixteen cans. One price. Zero glassware fees. Zero ambient fees. Zero performance orange peels.
Or if you want to start smaller, The Sample Can exists and is exactly what it sounds like, because we are not going to make you pay for the glass before you even know if you like the drink. We are not animals.
The Only Glass Worth Paying For
You want to know what a glass is actually worth? Nothing. A glass is worth nothing extra. A glass is the price of admission. The drink is what you are paying for. The experience is what you are paying for. The fact that you can sit in your own living room, at your own table, with people you actually chose to be with, and nobody is going to walk by and ask if you have seen the glassware menu, that is worth something. That is worth a lot.
I keep seeing these bars adding fees like they are running an airline. Next it will be a legroom charge for the barstool. A carry-on fee if you brought a jacket. A priority boarding surcharge if you want your drink before the guy who ordered after you.
And look, I am not even opposed to a nice bar. I am not opposed to a good bartender. There are great bartenders in this world and I have met several of them and I respect what they do. But the great ones, the actual great ones, they are not charging you four dollars for a glass they bought in bulk. They are charging you for the drink and they are making the drink worth it and the glass is just a glass and everybody knows it and nobody has to have a conversation about it.
The bar I am describing does not exist anymore, probably. But the drink does. Lou's Damn Right I'm Old Fashioned is the drink. Eight milligrams. Classic. Stubborn. No surcharges.
I still have the receipt, by the way. I have had it laminated. I am going to frame it. I am going to put it next to the watch that stopped in 2009, which is, and I want to be very clear about this, still more accurate than that bar's pricing.
Must be 21+ to purchase. For use only where legal. These products contain hemp-derived THC. This post is for entertainment purposes and does not constitute medical advice. These statements have not been evaluated by the FDA. This product is not intended to diagnose, treat, cure, or prevent any disease.
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