Liquid Anecdote

Sensory overload and fruity cocktails provide the cure for what makes us blue.

"Oh, back home, we deal with it this way," Jolene said, raising her eyebrows and making a facial expression best described as an icy cocktail of boredom, superiority, annoyance, and stone-cold disgust.

"This place reminds me of some places back home," Jolene said. "It makes me sad; I'm really homesick." Maybe Jolene really had come to Blue Martini to forget the blues.

"That's nothing a few more martinis can't cure," I offered.

"Yeah, they're helping," she smiled.

Regulars: Even at a relatively new spot, there were sure to be a few die-hard regulars. On a tip from Jolene, I approached a micro-mini blond bombshell and her lanky, scruffy male companion. Shawn was nursing a Crown; Crystal was sipping on a mojito margarita.

I asked if they came here a lot.

"About six or seven times," Shawn said. "Last night, we were at the Blue Martini in Fort Lauderdale."

He quickly added: "We were bored."

"This one's better," Crystal said.

"Because of its name, you'd expect this place to be a little more depressing," I said. "So let me ask, what makes you guys blue?"

"Blue?" Crystal asked.

"Sad, annoyed, depressed," I said. Honestly, my empty martini glass made me pretty blue. "Global warming makes me blue."

"That doesn't exist," Shawn said, giving the kind of laugh someone gives when they're not fucking kidding.

Crystal had an answer immediately. "Lying." Her eyes flashed.

"Nagging," Shawn responded immediately.

I backed away. Causing tense moments between couples only makes me slightly blue, but that's not anything another martini can't fix.

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