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.

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