This morning, I ended up sleeping in 40 minutes, and missed the bus I was supposed to catch. I took the train instead and arrived fifteen minutes earlier than I had originally planned on, but it cost me $3 extra. A sad state of affairs, it is, when I have to worry about three stinkin' dollars...
But I digress.
South Street, understandably, is absolutely dead at 9:00 in the morning. Even The Book Trader doesn't open till 10:00, and most other things don't open until about noon. Still, wandered around aimlessly, and, even in the lousy weather, was able to suck up city vibe and feel considerably better (a sort of anti-Kryptonite, as it were).
The school was almost impossible to find, and I wouldn't have found it at all if I didn't commit the address to memory before departing this morning. The only thing marking the place, from the outside, was a white piece of Xerox paper pasted to a door which said, quite simply, "Center City School of Bartending". It also helped that, during the second time I passed it, the only other student who will be joining me this week, a girl named Jackie, was standing outside the locked door.
The guy teaching the class showed up promptly at 10:05 and let us in. Once the door was open and the iron sheet covering the window from the inside was lifted, the place was considerably more impressive.
We spent the morning running through basic liquors and glassware and definitions and what have you, went over some basic recipes, mixed some stuff ourselves (all of the bottles, alas, were filled with water, colored or otherwise; as our instructor pointed out, though, the cost of the course would probably triple if real alcohol were used and we'd all be too drunk to work), and then had an hour break for lunch.
Jackie and I went off to some Chinese take-out place, where we swapped debate stories and crazy mother stories, cursed our mutual addiction to horoscopes, expressed a common interest in law, and, after much deliberation and discussion, agreed that the website said our instructor's name - the guy is second in command of the place, and both of us could only distinctly remember the name of the guy running the place - was Chris. (It was actually Mike.)
Got back from lunch, and learned so many drinks my head hurts, and we've only gone through a quarter of them. Fortunately, Mike did a very good job at breaking everything down and making it all make sense, and had several amusing mnemonics for the stuff that required pure memorization. My favorite, by far, would have to be that for a "Blue Whale."
"A Blue Whale," said Mike, "understandably, has a very big penis. Very Big Penis. V-B-P. Vodka and Blue Triple-Sec, balanced with Pineapple juice."
"A Godfather shoots assholes, S-A, two parts Scotch and one part Amaretto."
"Now a Godmother, she visits assholes when they're dead. Vodka and Amaretto."
And so forth. A drink with "wall" in it always has Galliano Liqueur since the bottle has such a fucked up height which requires it to be placed against the wall. "Screw" always involves vodka and orange juice. The only reason worms are still put in Tequila bottles is so Mexicans can make stupid Americans eat a worm.
Class was out by 4:00; tomorrow, class is only from 9:00 to 1:00. Not that I mind; the only thing that really worries me is having to learn all these drinks, and I don't need to sit in class to get that down.
I'm also worried about the family coming back at some ungodly hour tonight. The place is clean, their PC is still fucked up, all is as it should be. Screw waiting for them; I had four hours of sleep last night. I'm going to bed.