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Rated: 18+ · Non-fiction · Comedy · #1987056
What my naivete in social drinking taught me.
385 words

         Forty years ago, when I came to this country as a new bride, I was practically “taken out of the jungle” as my husband, George, would teasingly say. I was naïve to the ways of the world. Where I came from, I did not socialize like the city girls, so I was not exposed to social drinks. I had no clue what kinds of alcoholic drinks were served at cocktail parties and such.

         Three months after I arrived in Waterbury Connecticut, I landed a clerical job with Traveler’s Insurance Company. To get acquainted with people in the workplace, I started to hang out with my officemates at lunch times.

         At our table one day, Jo, who took me under her wing, talked about the various kinds of dinner drinks that are really good.  A connoisseur of fine whiskey, she practically drooled as she described how good a Scotch-on-the-Rocks is during, or after, dinner.

         That weekend, George said to me, “Let’s go out for brunch!” I readily accepted his proposition because I was going to show off what I had learned from the office. As soon as we were seated, the waitress came and said, “Would you care for a drink?” My ears perked up; I looked her straight in the eye, and with a big smile, I said, “Scotch-on-the-Rocks, please.”

         My husband gave me a double take with a big wrinkle on his forehead. I couldn’t describe the bewilderment written all over his face.  I did not understand either why he was so bewildered. I thought I impressed him with my order. I quietly flapped my wings and said to myself, “See, how sophisticated you are? You’re learning fast, girl….”

         When my Scotch-on-the-Rocks came, I took a sip and practically gagged. I spit it out.  Although he raised his brow, George was too polite to say anything. We just looked at each other, and then burst out laughing.

          After that hearty laughter, he said,          “Honey, how about ordering a different kind of drink?”

         “Yeah, I think so.”

         When the waitress came back, I sheepishly asked for a glass of Coke.  I diluted my Scotch with it and it was drinkable then.

         So much for my class and sophistication, eh?

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