Angry Little Men

My third cocktail party of the week was held at the Elevate Lounge, 21 floors above downtown.  Despite my intention to lay off drinking until next week's Stair Climb, there was an open bar.  But it wasn't until I stood there talking about scotch with a client that I absolutely had to have some.  And damn, was it good.

It also completely squelched my fatigue.  I've been feeling like hell lately.  Maybe because I was at THREE parties in the last 7 days.  All work-related.  My life is hard.

One glass of scotch, 5 glasses of water.  One of which the bartender accidently spilled on me.  Thank god I wasn't wearing white.  Then we started making jokes about getting wet.  It was funny.  He's a good bartender.  Except for the "accidental" dropsies.

I'd go back to if the valet wasn't such an jerk.  Look, I can park my own car.  And I usually will, unless there is absolutely no parking around.  But the entrance to the club's building is down an alley, across from an empty parking structure.  You think I can't find my own space 20 feet from the door?  Why should I have to pay someone 7 bucks to do it for me?  Unfortunately, the answer is yes.  They won't let you self-park.  And the guy is always rude to me.  So I refuse to tip him.  It almost makes me never want to go back.

It's really too bad.  Because that bartender was really cool.