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feast your eyes: the dark side of cocktails by sienawitte
"For women in business, it's more than a numbers game"
By Akshay Seth
"33% in Ross? That's nothing in comparison to Computer
Science and Engineering where it's 20%."
- USER: Mike Leroy
It was a orisi winter mgnt: swas
running across a dimly-lit parking
lot on the corner of Ashley and
Huron. Hobbling past the large
group of fellow goer-outers, I leapt
over the concrete divide and saw
the rest of my party dart into an
invisible doorway on the side of an
unmarked building. Where the hell
are we going? I caught up, scuttling
down the street in heels half a size
too big. On top of a building, a black
and white letter board haphazardly
spelling "THE LAST WORD 5 P.M.
- 2 A.M." caught my eye. I ducked
into the dimly lit door frame
beneath the sign.
In an instant, I had fallen down
Ann Arbor's very own rabbit hole,
an underground hotbed of mixol-
ogy magic and handcrafted cock-
tails. After wiping the sweat off my
brow and readjusting my various
layers, I found myself face-to-face
with a gentleman clad in a white
dress shirt, orchestratingthe eve-
ning next to a sign that read "Please
wait tobe seated" in dark, scripted
letters. Paneledbookshelves lined
the walls as we weaved our way
through elderly couples and youths,
nestled in the dark corner booths,
all ages sportingbeards - so
manybeards. Tea lights flickered
againstthe wood-paneled walls,
shining on finely aged liquids in
tall-necked glasses. It was as if the
buck-young Ann Arbor had finally
been wrangled by a man she met
at a rare book store, moved into
a chic loft overlooking the meat-
packing district of Manhattan, and
now roamed the streets clad in
sleek cargo trousers and patterned
sweaters that merely hinted at her
wild youth.
As expected of such a refined
lady of rebellion, the menu was
leatherbound and resembled a
short novel more than a list of food
and beverage offerings. After mak-
ing my way through the Table of
Contents (chapter listings and glos-
sary included), I flipped through
page after page of exotic cocktails,
trying mybest to think if the bold
combination of brandied cherry
juice and Aztec chocolate bitters
would pique my taste buds more
than the somewhat smoother elixir
of gin and champagne. One of my
companions, however, was still
on the fence, wondering whether
to get the unconventional and
zesty Osborn with fresh jalapeno
or the Penicillin that was up to
its eyeballs in Scotch. I expected
an all too excited regurgitation
of "They're both great!" from
our waiter, as per the unwritten
rules of customer service. To my
surprise, however, she looked up
from her notepad and explained
that while the Penicillin was cer-
tainly satisfactory, it was truly the
Osborn's perfect balance of bite
and sweetness that made it her
drink of choice.
With smiles on our faces and
eager anticipation for our dan-
gerously delicious cocktails, we
delved into a world of culinary
accomplices that have forever
been engrained in my memory -
also known as appetizers. What
arrived were more or less fancy
open-faced grilled cheeses topped
with fresh herbs. It wasn't long_
before the app from heaven was
gone, both melting and breaking
my heart with its fleeting fickle-
ness - much like a childhood
friendship kindled in the stale
heat of a summer camp Rec Room.
I was overwhelmingly struck with
a feeling of love and loss as I grit-
ted my teeth and politely offered
the last bite away. #regret
It seemed like the Last Word
could do no better, until our drinks
arrived. A lone thread of salty Par-
mesan hanging from my lower lip,
my jaw slacked mid-bite; I looked
up at the waitress as she bestowed
upon us our cocktails. Mine: a tall,
glowing glass of gin and cham-
pagne, a single basil leaf adorning
the rim. And my companion's: a
short stub of a Tiki mug sprouting
a blue paper umbrella. My eyes
widened and I chuckled to myself.
It seemed the impossible became
possible - both the luxury of aged
alcohol and the candid kitschy-
ness of a tourist souvenir came to
coexist.
Just when In .-
you thought s
you had the
Last Word
figured out,
just when you
thought you had her all boxed
up and tucked neatly away, she
shook her finger with a mischie-
vous smile, giving you a "Tsk,
tsk" for trying to tie her down as
solely lavish. In one fell swoop,
we were reminded that there
was no room for judgment, for
wondering if Tiki mugs should or
shouldn't be served in an other-
wise luau-less environment. This
was more than just a drink, more
than just a night out on the town
- it was a chance to indulge in
liquid peppers, to huddle around
a flaming bowl of "lots of rum ...
and more rum." It was a chance to
break all the rules - at least until
last call.
Wednesday, November 27, 20 The Statement7B
Working for happiness
by Aaron Guggenheim
randma carefully set her hands successes of those who came before. family and, in the process, gradually rejecting her Dream; her ideas of
on the tablecloth, stained with Grandma had been a product of became weighted with an ecosystem success. and happiness were under
bits of rice and curry, and the 1950s. She married young and of financial obligations that developed assault. I might never attain what
gave me a pained, exacerbated look; had children, smoked cigarettes and around three children and a divorce. Grandma had and carry forward the
apparently she had Dream; instead
an agenda. I might live with
"You paid little and descend
nearly $200,000 in class. It was no
to do what? Wait wonder that my
tables?" she said. I'\3. . - plans concerned
"Sweetheart. You her.
didn't go to college I don't think
for that." I will live out
I smiled patiently their Dream. I'll
and leaned back be starting my
into the worn, red own, and I don't
booth. particularly want
Grandma, a to acquire things.
spry woman with I want to do good
perennially short and be happy. I
red hair of a shade want to explore
not found in and live.
nature, was born But at the same
to immigrants who time, I struggle
had often argued with that. I struggle
in Yiddish and with the weight
made their living of abandoning
selling newspapers the Dream that
in train stations has lived on
before buying for generations,
a storefront in previous to mine.
Detroit - Sosin's I feel a nagging
Sodas sold candy sense of obligation
and pop. With four to push myself and
children, money attain things for
had been tight, the sake of those
but her parents who came before,
managed to send ILLUSTRATION BY MEGAN MULHOLLAND for those who
her and her three brothers to college taught English. And Grandpa and He took the straight and narrow struggled to put me where I am.
by working long hours and saving Grandma did well for themselves; path and now lives surrounded by I have this fantasy where I buy a
carefully. following the turbulent race riots in things he has acquired but which he rusted blue Volkswagen van with
They knew that their dream, their Detroit, they had purchased a home rarely has the time or energy to use. enough miles on it to give it some
American Dream of class ascendancy, in the suburbs and proceeded to Like his sister, he outdid Grandpa personality and convert it into a
was not possible in their lifetimes; trade in cars every two or so years, a and Grandma by carrying the family camper. It wouldn't be fancy - just
they simply did not have the education veritable status symbol. They worked farther and ascending class and a small bed and a propane stovetop
to do so. Poverty and oppression hard and bought things, raising two status. Dad was carrying the Dream and enough room for books and
in Eastern Europe had stifled children among a growing extended forward, generations in the making. more books. I'd be kept company
opportunity. But they knew that with family that always got together for That left me. Sitting across from by hundreds of those strange and
a college education, their children the High Holidays. Grandma, an elite college education wonderful people who live through
could live the life they had wanted: Their children, my dad and his nearly complete and no immediate thin sheets of paper. And then I'd
financial security that promised not sister, were raised to continue onward plans to capitalize on it. drive. I would find people and places
only stability but the opportunity to with the Dream. They had extensive "I don't need money. I just want to that were beautiful and different and
purchase items that demonstrated opportunities and, eventually, both be happy," I said. "If I work at Trader weird. I'd work when I needed to
their ascendancy - a new car and went onto elite graduate schools. Joe's and I am happy, then what does and read when I didn't. Away from
a color television to accessorize a They too worked hard; Dad became it matter? complications and expectations and
carefully maintained suburban home. a corporate lawyer, working in Grandma and I argued like we had obligations, I'd come to accept mo
See, in my family the American securities litigation, and Aunt Amy dozens of times before. I left dinner Dream.
Dream did not just live and die within became wealthy in the boom of the frustrated and set out walking home, Maybe, after this is all over, after
one generation. It was the inheritance late 90s, taking several years off after refusing the offer of a ride. Why did four years in Ann Arbor, that is the
of the next generation to demonstrate negotiating the sale of the company she care what I did after I graduated? place to start.
that with careful planning and she worked for to climb mountains It was my life after all.
hard work came the ability to move and scuba dive. But I soon realized that why we Aaron Guggenheim is a Daily Staff
upward; to build on the sacrifices and Dad worked hard to provide for our were arguing was because I was Reporter and an LSA senior., m
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