Walk the Plank
There are some nights that you just know are going to suck, and then others that sneak up on you. I had great hopes for my night at the Buffalo Rose. It was a beautiful drive to Golden: The air was crisp and clean, with a sky full of stars. The bar was crowded, but in a good way, convivial and full of men. Tuaca, Jägermeister and Patrón were on tap, and a great band — Midlife Crisis — was playing in the room next door. I felt as if I had hit all the sweet spots that make for a fun time out with friends. And then I had the gall to ask Josh the bartender for a specialty cocktail. The look on his face said it all; he might as well have pointed at me and screamed, "LOSER! Go back to Highlands Ranch!" Instead, he barked, "I don't have time to figure out what you want to drink." Had I asked for a beer and a shot, I'm sure that the charming Josh would have gotten it, slammed it down in front of me, growled the amount of money that I owed him and moved on to his next victim. And I'm reasonably sure that I wouldn't have gotten the same sweet headache brought on by the Walk the Plank ($7.50), made with Malibu Rum, Captain Morgan, peach schnapps, orange juice, Sprite and grenadine, that Josh finally, reluctantly, made for me. Trying to salvage the night, I moved from bar service to a waitress. And the adorable waitress I ordered our next round of drinks from was such a welcome departure from Josh that my night quickly got back on track. In fact, it was Golden.
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