Harmful If Swallowed (Entering Nicholas - part two)

My dad would drink Cutty at home but if he was out somewhere that served top shelf booze, there was only one drink of choice.

The Glenlivet.

The was a Mexican restaurant in Long Beach that our family went to all of the time and I can still see my dad sitting across from me performing his ritual with his first double.

He would carefully hold the drink to his lips and take a quick sip.

He would let out a satisfied sigh.

And in a strained voice (that was funny the first time I heard it), he would look at me and say "SMOOTH!"

When his drink was watered down by the melted ice, he would give both my and Number 2 sips of it when the waitress wasn't looking.

I think at 10 years old, I would have rather been drinking lighter fluid. But today, I'm going to order that same drink.

I'm not sure if it is a state law or anything but the next song comes on and it's another 80's hair band. This time, it's Ratt's "Round and Round" (what comes around goes around).

The bartender hasn't acknowledged me yet. She is busy setting up her workstation for the day.

She's also the best looking woman in here.

Very pretty face with just a little too much eye makeup. Her hair is pulled back into a short pony tail. She's got on a tight black shirt that is cut off at the shoulders.

I watch her for a bit as she ignores my existence. I can wait. I know that she'll eventually come my way.

She leaves the bar momentarily and heads to a back store room and I see why she's not on stage.

Her black jeans can't hide the fact that she may have been the inspiration for Sir Mix-a-lot's biggest hit.

Over and over in my head, I keep hearing "L.A. face with an Oakland booty." It finally gets drowned out by Bon Jovi's "You give love a bad name."

The bartender returns and is ready to take my order. She doesn't say anything to me. She just gives me a look that says "you have 3 seconds to tell me what drink you want."

I order a Glenlivet on the rocks and the bartender starts scanning her shelf looking for my order.

I'm distracted by her search and I don't see the butterface stripper heading my way. She puts her arm around me and asks me how things are going.

Great. Now I'm going to have glitter and stripper perfume on me. I think I'll call the Commander as soon as I leave just so she knows where I'm at and she doesn't ask me about it when I get home.

I show the butterface a face a $5 bill and she takes it with her other hand. She leans in and gives me a hug and a kiss on the cheek that she drags all the way other to my ear so she can blow in it while she thanks me.

I just feel bad for her and this move had the opposite effect of what she was attempting.

It was an anti-boner move.

The butterface leaves me to hit up the other puds in the club and I turn my attention back to the bartender. She's finally found a bottle of Glenlivet.

But it is nearly empty.

There's maybe half a drink in there and she's not sure what she is going to do.

Out of nowhere, another woman approaches and she is excited. She's trying point something out to the bartender.

I hear an unmistakable French accent despite the fact that "Pour some sugar on me" by Def Leppard is on at an ear-splitting volume.

"Do you know whose drink that is? That is Mr. VW's drink! That is the drink that he always would order!"

I had thought that I would never see this woman again but here she was.

It's Frenchie.

I turn to Frenchie and the bartender and say, "I know that's Mr. VW's drink. That's why I ordered it."

VW