The Perfect Drink

I've got some thoughts on the state of the American bus transit system, but I'll be tossing that up on wmeddy.com. For the purposes of this blog, I think it's best to say that I had a pretty good time on the busses. I was comfortable, for the most part, and just sat back to watch the beauty of urban decay whizz past.

I started my morning by going to bed at 2:30am, and then waking up at 5am. I arrived at the DC Greyhound station at 6:40am and after some wrangling, eventually got on a bus. It was a fairly uneventful trip, the only truly unerving part of it was the time spent in the NYC PA Bus Satation.








Behold, the horror of the New York Port Authority bus terminal. Your bus pulls in and you are discharged into a dark labyrinth, left to fend or yourself.


















New York terrifies my feeble, Midwestern mind, but I still kind of love it.








I arrived in Boston without much fuss and met up with my dear cousin Laura and took me straight to a restuarant to satiate my hunger pangs. By this point, I had not eaten in nearly 24 hrs.

The place where we stoppe had big picnic tables and a relaxed plastic-cup attitude. In keeping with my personal theme of being Aggressively Awesome, I ordered the salmon hotdogs:









The jury's still out on these, guys.

Afterward, Laura took me to a bar called Drink, which is something of a mixologist's dream. The place is dark with a very spare, clean decor of unadorned wood. The kind of place with low ceilings and bare lightbulbs that look more like vaccuum tubes. Behind the bar is all sorts of specialized drink mixing equipment, and the very best ingredients.









The warmth of the bar is offset by the almost clinical level of precision applied to drink mixing. The bitters are kept in dropper bottles, live herbs dot the counter, and the sinks looked suspiciously like those in a highschool chemistry lab.

Talking with Sam, our amazing bartender, he confirmed that this is a sort of cocktail laboratory, where you can not only experiment but also accurately make an excellent cocktail everytime. Bartenders are encouraged to take their time mixing drinks, and to strive for something truly experiential.

Interestingly, Drink has no menu. Obviously, you can order something off the top of your head, but the preferred method is to tell your bartender how your feeling, or your likes and dislikes. Like a mystic aura reader, the bartender will appraise you and assign you a drink.

"Ok," I said. "I'm taking a month long bus trip across America. I've quit my job and my future is uncertain. I have no health insurance."

"And he loves gin," added Laura.

Sam pondered and eventually crafted this:









"The Fortress Of Solitude."

Sam explained that te bar staff was wondering what kind of drink Superman had. They chose to shirk the obvious blue and red tie-in, and instead drew inspiration from the Man of Steel's private chmaber located in the Anarctic. I asked if I could photograph it, and Sam even volunteered to provide illumination.

The drink itself was an refreshing mint-chocolate number, based on Plymouth gin. It was eminantly drinkable without losing any of the gin's complex flavor. A real winner.

Obviously, I'm having a great time here with Laura. Boston is a fascinating town, and I'm eager to she my heavy pack and get the city under my feet tomorrow.

But man! For the first day, the bar has been set high!

Location:Washington St,Boston,United States