Guy comes up to the bar, I say, what’s up? What can I get you? He says, I wanna shot. Surprise me. Surprise you? Great, I say. What do you not like? Well, he says, I can’t do anything with red dye. What? Like cranberry juice? Yeah. And a lot of puckers. Ok. Anything else you can’t drink? Yeah, no whiskey. I had a bad experience.
What do you think? How do I feel about the old surprise me? No, it sucks. Why’s that? I wanna give you something you like. I want you to be happy with your drink. ALWAYS. I take it personally when I look over and see there’s been one sip taken in an hour from the drink in front of you.
But sometimes, I’m in a mischievous mood.
Ok, you want me to surprise you with a shot? Surrrrre. Would love to surprise you. I pour the shot I reserve for the perfect surprise me shot. I put it in front of him. And voila! Your surprise me shot. What is it? He inquires. Ohhhhh, I say. It’s a surprise! Ok, he says, with apprehension. He takes the shot. Ahhhhh, he says, with disgust. What the hell was that? That, my friend, was a Prairie Fire. What the hell’s in it? He asks. Oh, Juarez tequila and a couple dashes of tabasco sauce.
From my heart to yours,
Clint Curtis. Bartender.