Tuesday, July 12, 2011

8. Drink a dirty martini (Attempt #1)

One of the perks of going to a small Catholic high school was the inability to get wild and crazy.  With a school that small, any indiscretion would make it's way back to the parents faster than strep throat runs through a preschool.  I have never tried drugs, I rarely missed curfew, and my first taste of alcohol was (gasp) in college, unlike so many people I know.  In fact, the thought of drinking a beer just for the taste was beyond foreign to me, and I learned to drink via Boone's, wine coolers, and the occasional Zima.  (Don't laugh, you know you tried that too.) 

After four five years in college, I was finally able to say with a straight face that, given a choice, I'd choose a beer over pretty much any other drink.  Don't get me wrong, I love a good margarita, but there's rarely a day an ice cold Blue Moon doesn't sound delicious.

For most people, drinking a dirty martini might not seem like a very exciting thing to put on a list of 33 things. But for me, it's WAY out of my comfort zone, so when Jay brought me a dirty martini from the bar in Jamaica, I was hesitant to try it. 

Maybe it's because the drink was slightly pink.  I'm no expert, but with the ingredients of gin, vermouth, olive juice and olives, having a pink tint isn't normal.
Regardless, I smiled and got ready to try it.  I was going to do this, I had an audience (shout out Katie and Dean, our new friends) AND a photographer.  Besides, how bad could a questionably pink dirty martini be?
Turns out, pretty bad. 
It smelled like feet. It tasted like feet.  I gave it the old college try, but I could only manage to eat the olives.
I would go ahead and check it off my list (I DID try it, after all) but Mindy had a good point:  Perhaps Jamaica, where the best drinks come out of a slushy machine, is not the best place to try a not-top-shelf martini. 

I guess there's a trip to the bar in my future! 

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