Martini lunches

Earlier this week, Joseph Kahn 's "Voices" column in the Boston Globe sounded the death knell for the martini lunch.

Personally, I hope he got more out of Arthur Schlesinger Jr.'s Journals 1952-2000 then the observation that Schlesinger drank during lunch (his starting point for this essay). But since he brings the subject up...

All things being equal, perhaps that helped matters. I mean, considering the industries that Kahn quotes John Spooner (Boston investment advisor) as having been champions of the martini lunch--law, publishing, financial investments, and advertising--switching from alcohol to bottled water did nothing except make people more health conscious (not healthier) and self-righteous, and boost EPS for Perrier.

Back in the day, when I worked in business and banking, we didn't wait for happy hour (that was also back in the days of the happy hour in Boston). Summer afternoons we could be found at Lily's outdoor patio drinking strawberry margaritas or the local Mexican restaurant with a Slow Train to Nagales (a strawberry/banana thing). Then back to work, none the stupider. One company that I worked for was innovative in being a solidly no-smoking environment, but the president kept a bottle of scotch in his bottom desk drawer. As a company we were none the worse on either count (except for the day the systems' guy thought he set the computer room on fire, but that's another story). In the late '80s that gradually changed, but in a weird kinda way. People still wanted to, but no one wanted to be the first when the waiter came around. So unless the boss ordered first, there was that pause, then "Diet Coke."

When I switched to writing there were a lot fewer business lunches. But a couple of years ago, when I was writing movie reviews and entertainment pieces, I ran into an arts editor I knew at an interview who invited me to lunch. At 11:45 (I noted the time) we were sipping martinis at the Ritz and talking about the Boston arts/entertainment scene. She was much older and wiser than I, so who was I to argue? And why would I? In fact, I remember thinking, it doesn't get better than this.

(Brief aside: It's good to see that John Spooner is still around and still in Boston--whether or not he drinks anymore at lunch. His 1985 book, Sex & Money: Behind the Scenes With The Big-Time Brokers, a names-have-been-changed account of his early days in the money business, was a fun read and worth reading again.)

Pizza and Poppers in New Orleans

So, this past weekend I went to New Orleans. It was a family visit kind of thing, which generally necessitates a great deal of drinking, so it would appear that I went to the right place. In the past, conversations I’ve had with my father while traveling have included the following bits of dialog:

“What time is it?”
“11:30”
“Is that too early to have a drink?”
“Where do you want to go?”


“Do you want to get a drink?”
“No, thanks.”
“You can have a drink.”
“I’m really not in the mood.”
“Don’t not drink on my account.” [He had stopped drinking then.]
“Really, I don’t want one. We’re going to dinner in an hour, I plan on having one then.”
[Deep sigh and rolling of the eyes] “Suit yourself.”

I fondly refer to a trip to Washington DC several years back as the drinking tour, since we matched every sightseeing stop with a bar stop. We even justified a drinking stop as a sightseeing opportunity (the Watergate Hotel). To put it properly in perspective, for his part, it’s more about the opportunity to stop and rest, as I walk a lot normally and he doesn’t. But, anyway, I digress. This post really isn’t about drinking.

In New Orleans, one is expected to drink. It’s a little depressing, really. People go just to drink in the street. Before Katrina, there still was that, of course, but there was also easy music and a cultural vibe that permeated the French Quarter. You could walk around and hear snatches of jazz and zydeco pouring out of the bars or on the street corners. Now it is one big frat party. Jazz can still be found, but you have to look for it (outside of the jazz and French Quarter festivals, of course). Most of the music is karaoke, juke boxes, or really, really bad cover bands.

It’s actually kind of weird. The hotel staff and local business owners all promote the nightlife and street drinking (24-hours a day, they remind you), as if it were the only reason to be there. And, indeed, after 10 it is. We got in late the first day, so by the time we went out looking for dinner, there were no restaurants open. Finally, we found Jimani’s, a corner, neighborhood-type of bar. After a 12-hour trip complete with misdirected luggage and staggering airport waits, we weren’t rewarded with étouffée, but rather poppers and pizza. I could’ve just walked down the street for that. But at least the beer was cold and the people were friendly.

The city is still in a state of flux. (Years too long, but that’s another conversation.) The next day, at the event we were in town for, there was a gospel/jazz singer. Part of her banter was about how the city would never go back to the way it was, but that New Orleans was struggling to find its “new normal.” It is a battle between pandering for the tourist buck and rediscovering the vitality that was. But there are signs that the vibe is coming back. In both this visit and the last, a few months ago, the street performers, artists, and tarot card readers in Jackson Square are finally beginning to outnumber the “For Sale/Rent” and “Help Wanted” signs.

In the meantime, now that I’m back in Boston and the pressure is off, I’m going to have a drink.

This is just disturbing

I work with a lot of twenty-somethings, which is an education in and of itself.

Last night, the downtime conversation was about drinking. One woman said that she heard from a college friend that the latest trend was for college girls to soak tampons in vodka and insert them. The logic, if you will, being that one can immediately get drunk.

This disturbs me on many levels, but mainly I just find it a little sad. As the woman who was telling this story said, "I drink a lot; I get drunk a lot. I set out to drink, but I never say, 'I'm going to get drunk.' " It's more than semantics, it's a difference of goals.

The way I see it, drinking can be fun, being drunk, not so much, and the next day, way not so much. Why anyone would cut to the chase is beyond me.