The Paisley Martini Lunch

It was Friday and cold and wet enough that, rather than spend as hour at the IBB eating a meagre bag of potato chips and a cookie, I went downstairs to Michael's and had lunch. Which is exactly what I had done Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. This is beginning to get expensive!

So there I was sitting at my favourite table, number eleven, writing something in my journal when I hear from up at the bar "Does anyone know how to make a Paisley Martini?" I took note. Looking around serrepticiously, a very useful technique in a busy restaurant, especially if one is a spy for us or them, I tried to discern who among the patrons would be ordering a Paisley Martini at this early hour of the afternoon. Granted it was 5.00 pm somehwere in the world and that alone is justification enough for many of us. Still, it was rather mysterious and I couldn't see any likely supect for the Paisley Martini.

"I don't know," said Bill. "That's Barret's department."

"What's a Paisley Martini?" I heard Barret ask.

I was now quite puzzled, let me tell you.

Within a minute, or perhaps less, Rose glided by my table, paused and asked "Paul, how do you make a Paisley Martini?"

"Two ounces of gin, a half ounce of dry vermouth and a half ounce of scotch." I replied.

Rose pulled a peculiar facial expression which I took to be either surprise or disgust and proceeded to glide away.

Still puzzled I resumed my journalling while I heard the shaker being shaken. I still couldn't figure who among us had ordered a Paisley Martini.

Imagine then my surprise when Rose re-glided by and placed before me a Paisley Martini!

"What's this?" I asked. Well, I knew what it was, but what I ought to have said was "Is this a Paisley Martini before me?" all very Shakesperian. Instead, all I said was "What's this?"

"Your co-worker came down earlier and bought you a Paisley Martini. Now let me know if that's not right and I'll make you antoher one."

Well, whattaya know! It turned out to be a very good Paisley Martini and by the time lunch was over I was nicely lit. I should really stick to my usual Stewart's root beer at lunch, but the Paisley Martini was a break from the usual and added a certain frisson to the rest of the afternoon. It is, after all, 5.00 pm somewhere in the world.