It’s Just A Glass Of Wine!

What is it about visiting Californians (not all, of course, but most) that makes your friendly bartender most unfriendly? Is it the fact that when ordering wine they act like oenophiles who were raised on their very own vineyard, or is it… oh, I don’t know… the fact that when ordering wine they act like oenophiles who were raised on their very own vineyard? I just can’t decide. For they give the event when they walk in the door… the event called, “I’ll have a Cab”… all the deliberation of the purchase of a car. And that’s putting it mildly.

So I ask you, Golden Staters, to put this into perspective… do people visiting from Green Bay, in the mood for a juicy cheeseburger, ask your friendly bartender, “Is your cheese made from winter milk when the cows feed on hay, or summer milk when those babies feed on greens?” Or do people visiting from Baltimore in the mood for a plate of crab cakes, ask in a superior tone, “I need to know if the meat is Blue Crab or Dungeness.” Or what about the Floridian dying for a screwdriver, is he or she prone to query, “Do you use fresh squeezed, reconstituted or single strength?”

Get the picture? So why must you always take on that air of connoisseur of the grape, and bury your nose in the glass like you’re solving a crime? Like these three golden beauties of a few weeks back…

On an otherwise uneventful Tuesday night, when the bar was three quarters full and free of bullshit, in walked a caravan of bullshit to fill the quota. And if cameras had been rolling when they made their grand entrance, the show would be called “The Real Housewives of Napa”. These gals were all in their mid to late forties, each attractive and knew it, and each was sprinkled with enough glittered hardware to catch a mugger’s eye at three hundred paces. The Magi in heels!

“Does this place sell wine?” said the blond, who seemed to be the lead guitar in this band. Her back-up players were both brunettes and behind her.

(This place? What… not enough chrome-and-glass or hanging ferns, lady? Where do you think you are, some truck stop?)

“Yes,” I replied, “this place sells wine.”

“Is it decent?” she then asked, incredibly.

“It’s more than decent, miss… where do you think you are, some truck stop?”

“Oh, well, see we’re from California and needless to say we’re picky about our wines (No shit, Meditrina, why was I thinking Cleveland or freaking Newark?) and we’re not the type to drink just any old thing. Do you have a list?”

“Then you want to buy a bottle.”

“No, just a glass, do you have a list by the glass?”

“Sorry, we don’t…Β  just a list of our bottles.”

She turned and looked at her back-up players then turned and looked at me. “Then what do you have by the glass, Sir, in reds? Tell me about those.”

Tell me about those? Well at this point, dear reader, not having prepared a speech on each to bolster each glorious grape… it’s vintage, it’s vineyard, it’s label designer and oak species… I went over and grabbed the four we pour… Cab, Merlot, Pinot Noir, Cotes du Rhone… and placed them in front of the trio along with four glasses. I figured, a sniff-and-a-sip beats a thousand words any day.

But this is where it got, if not annoying, funny. After I poured a bit of the Cab the lead guitar took a sniff, then passed it along to her back-ups for joint consensus. Then they each took a sip and passed it along, just like they did when inhaling, reminding me of Apostles at The Last Supper. With equal reverence. And this was just the Cab! I had three more bottles to go in this on-site inspection.

“Just so you’re aware,” I said, in a mild attempt at humor, “we close around one and it’s already nine. Now I’ve got me a bar to run, I’ll be back.” Well at least one of the back-ups got it and gave me a titter as I left, but then quickly slammed her nose back into the Merlot. She had a job to do!

When I returned about five minutes later (and thanks to the stars above), they’d agreed on the Pinot Noir to end the nonsense. And I mean thank those stars! For I’ve witnessed before, after tasting the four (each of which earns its keep) someone brazenly saying, “I’ll have a coke!”

Then a little while later, spotting this threesome from across the room some guy rolled into the “valley” of the dolls and offered to buy our ladies another round. And when the lead guitar said, “Yes, but… maybe this time we’ll try… ” I quickly poured three more Pinots before she could finish. I had visions from hell of, “Tell me about your whites.” And I got away with it. She wanly smiled as she cupped her hand around the Pinot.

Well, after that second round of drinks and a lively conversation as well, the ladies paid their bill and made their exit. And the guy did the same. But something told me he wasn’t on his way to join them. Why? Because left on the bar, torn in two, was the business card the lead guitar had given him. What a source of speculation!

For was this that guy’s way of saying to the world, “What a pain in the ass you are, lady?” Or had she said something like that to him and this was his response after she’d left? Or finally (and most interesting), did tearing up the card mean, “I don’t need a goddam service to get a date, lady?” Because when I got home later that night and pieced her card together (sly old fox that I am) and looked up the web site printed on its face, it turns out the lead guitar runs her own dating service. With a video to boot. Pretty impressive, yes?

So when all is said and done, I figure, and regardless of why that card was torn in two, one can only surmise as he looks at the facts… if she’s half as discerning at finding mates as she is at picking her wines, her clients must all be married in two weeks time!

But to get serious again. If you’re buying a bottle of wine, California, especially an expensive bottle, I can half see the histrionics required so please feel free to go through all the motions. I’ll abide. But if it’s just a glass you require, make a decision and try to get on with your life. Whaddaya’ say? In other words, just because your state produces a cask or two and ships it across the country, you don’t have to act like your name is on each bottle. Because believe me it doesn’t impress it merely depresses.

Now where the hell is that card, I’ve got no date tonight!

Over and out from Bar-land, see ya’ next week-end!

PS: I just want to say thank you again to Arikia over at (The Millikan Daily) for redesigning my blog and the new banner. And someone else thinks you did a good job too, Arikia. (This guy).

50 Responses to “It’s Just A Glass Of Wine!”


  1. 1 Anonymoustache May 1, 2010 at 6:33 pm

    Too bad Toora-loora-loora doesn’t make a wine for such ‘connoisseurs’, eh?

  2. 2 Petro May 1, 2010 at 8:41 pm

    Personally, this is the funniest post that you’ve put up! Gol, I have a friend (who happens to be a self-loathing stripper, but otherwise good people) – she acts exactly the same way when wine is to be ordered up. She’s studied! And she’s toured!

    What you’ve written has clarified the reactions I’ve seen from the bar-meisters… er, victims.

    Awesome post.

  3. 3 Sen May 2, 2010 at 7:13 am

    Come to Scotland sometime and watch the whisky drinkers pretend to know what they’re talking about. I’ve been visiting distilleries since I was a kid, so I’m pretty good at working out when they’re talking rubbish. It’s good for a laugh. Plus you get the occasional idiot tourist asking “does that mean scotch comes from scotchland?”

  4. 4 scribbler50 May 2, 2010 at 8:14 am

    Anonymoustache: True that, my friend, but then I’d be in jail for assault with a deadly snifter!

    Petro: All I can say is thanks, man, glad the gals from Napa tickled your funny bone. And as far as your stripper friend is concerned, I’m obviously not a shrink but perhaps her wine ordering performance is an attempt at sophistication BECAUSE she’s a stripper. You know, an, “I got class!” kind of thing.

    Sen: Thanks for for that perspective from across the pond, friend. I can only imagine the bullshit flying in a setting like that. It simply to screams for it!
    Cheers!

  5. 5 Isis the Scientist May 2, 2010 at 11:01 am

    HA HA HA! I am totally a snooty Californian wine bitch when it comes to the bottle. But, by the glass? They must have been from San Diego.

  6. 6 scribbler50 May 2, 2010 at 12:17 pm

    Isis: You snooty? Nahhhh! Inquisitive, precise, discerning, erudite, insightful, brash and perhaps a tad oenophilic? Maybe! But at least you draw the line when it comes to “the glass”.

    Nice hearing from you again, dear friend.

  7. 7 jc May 2, 2010 at 12:27 pm

    I love what you’ve done with *this place*!

  8. 8 scribbler50 May 2, 2010 at 12:43 pm

    Thank you, jc, but the credit goes to Arikia, my friend over at the Milikan Daily. See the “PS:” I left at the bottom of my previous post.
    Glad you like it though… I sure do!

  9. 9 physiobabe May 2, 2010 at 3:13 pm

    Love the post, Scrib, it’s spot on. Most Californians I know are exactly as you describe them. So, how’d the date go? πŸ™‚

    I guess I’m going against the tide here, too. Not in love with the new look, kinda Dante-esque.

    Ciao!

  10. 10 scribbler50 May 2, 2010 at 4:28 pm

    physiobabe: If Dante-esque means amber lighting, a dreamy atmosphere and exactly the kind of mood I wanted to create… then you’re right!

    Harrrrumph!!! πŸ™‚

  11. 11 guest May 2, 2010 at 5:55 pm

    I’m not from Baltimore (DC area of Md), so I’m no crab expert, and according to some Baltimoreans I’m not really much of a Marylander. But I had no idea anybody made crab cakes with anything other than blue. Some people ask if it’s lump meat or whatever, and that really does make a big difference. But personally I wouldn’t eat ANYTHING from a place that makes crab cakes w/o blue crabs. Which is dungeness? Is that the nasty crab meat they put in sushi or serve at Red Lobster? Gross.

    But if I had met those wine snobs, I would have chalked it up to gender. Honestly, I hate going anywhere and standing in line to order food or drinks behind women, and especially groups of women. And especially ordering anything that might be considered a “treat” like alcohol, coffee or desert where the ordering is part of the fun “event”. Usually I will leave the establishment as soon as I spot them in line. It’s like a mini-bridezilla moment where the whole world (meaning me and the rest of the folks in line) has to stop and wait while they make the big decision. If I can’t decide by the time it’s my turn to order, I just order anything so as not to look like a stupid ass.

    Last week some dithering 30 something dimwit didn’t know the difference between cappucino and latte, and after repeatedly questioning the girl behind the counter (and not being convinced), she googled it on her i-phone, then called her boyfriend and finally she felt the daggers I was staring at her and got out of line so she could call her boyfriend again (he did not pick up the first time she called). I think she left the place. Women and their damn food issues.

  12. 12 scribbler50 May 2, 2010 at 6:55 pm

    Guest: Two things…

    First: Dungeness is crab indigenous to the Pacific northwest, which of course can be shipped to the east coast.

    Second: Though you’re entitled to your opinion, this post was not an indictment of women and their ordering habits, it was a statement about “some” Californians who in this case happened to be women. Big dif!

    Thanks.

  13. 13 DC wine geek May 2, 2010 at 8:15 pm

    I’ve worked restaurants since the 80’s, including 9 months in San Francisco, and I have to say that Californian guests are different. With respect, though, to other commenters, I don’t think gender plays all that much of a roll, and I generally find the San Diegans more easy-going than northerners.

    But I’ve heard it a dozen times, when I’ve inquired about a wine choice: “We’re from California. Wine country. We’ll have the [cheapest big brand Californian chardonnay on the list].”

    I’m always tempted to respond, welcome to DC β€” wine-drinking country.

  14. 14 Toaster May 2, 2010 at 11:40 pm

    Maybe we should get you a bit of 2-beta-mercapthenol to add the tiniest drop to the wine. This chemical smells like a trout left out in the sun for a week that had dined on nothing but used diapers left out in the sun for a week all steeped in concentrated cat urine. You know, just to see how it modulates their perceptions of wine quality.

    Of course, those that want to find fault in their wines will go to lengths to find any reason for it, while whiskey drinkers still don’t care.

  15. 15 scribbler50 May 3, 2010 at 8:37 am

    DC wine geek: Thanks for that, you’ve worked in restaurants so you know whereof I speak. And I agree about San Diegans… different species in general, more laid back. Love your last sentence, by the way, you should try it next time.

    Toaster: Only a fabulous science mind like yours could come up with a comment like that. Trout taint and all. Hilarious, my friend! Meanwhile, sorry your comment took so long to get posted. I noticed last night it was in a holding mode, didn’t know why and was too “unscientific” to know what to do about it. Then this morning I found the “approve” button and released it. Sorry, man. Maybe your 2-beta-mercapthenol scared the shit out of my system. πŸ™‚

  16. 16 chris jones May 3, 2010 at 10:22 am

    Loved your post.

    Next time ask those obnoxious California wine drinkers where they were born and where they live. Their answer will tell you a lot.

  17. 17 scribbler50 May 3, 2010 at 10:45 am

    chris jones: Just went to your web site and given what you obviously know about wine, and the wine “culture” that surrounds it (if that’s the word), I’m doubly pleased you enjoyed this post. This is right in your wheelhouse, so thank you.

    And I’m sure you’re right about asking that question though I doubt I would ever do it, I don’t know enough about the subject in general to know what their answer would reveal. Know what I mean? But obviously you would!

    Hey, thanks for stopping by and good luck with your book.

  18. 18 Brenda May 3, 2010 at 11:49 am

    A FABULOUS post, Scrib. Am guffawing down here in the Village. and funny, (but of course not funny, at all) I’ve always said that you can tell alot, too much in fact, about a woman and how she treats men precisely by how she treats men in the service industry. Insanely ironic that this particular broad happens to run a dating company. I mean, god help us all!

  19. 19 scribbler50 May 3, 2010 at 12:40 pm

    Brenda: You’re right, my friend, treatment of people in the service industry by men AND women, and I have heard you write about this, says a lot about someone’s character or lack of it.
    Glad you got a laugh though in spite of it.
    Thanks.

  20. 20 Jager May 3, 2010 at 12:47 pm

    As Bostonians transplanted in SoCal we suffer “wine experts”…my wife started to tip toe down that nasty path after a week in wine country (want to get looks? Order a Jack on the rocks in a bar in Healdsburg!)and now I stop her with “Honey, don’t start your wine bullshit, okay?”

  21. 21 d-a-p May 3, 2010 at 1:04 pm

    ….i really like the new look…very appropriate to the room…
    about the wine experts..its both sad and pathetic at the same time (and i’m a native californian)…a real expert would order by name and year…not..”tell me what you have???…that’s just for show….
    amazing…
    d-a-p

  22. 22 Irishirritant May 3, 2010 at 1:14 pm

    friend reminded me of a Wilde quote…
    “some cause happiness wherever they go: others whenever they go.”
    Thanks again Scrib for your fine set of eyes, ears and observation.
    Just give me the closest red, thanks.

  23. 23 scribbler50 May 3, 2010 at 1:37 pm

    Jager: As a Jack Daniels guy myself I just might try that… if I ever get out west again. By the way, I love “…my wife started to tip-toe down that nasty path…”, very funny and quite a visual. But it sounds you like you stepped in just in time before she “stomped on the grapes”.
    Welcome and thanks.

    d-a-p: thanks for the props on the new look, Bud, I like it too. Obviously. And as to the “experts”… some are and some ain’t but neither should try and make you think they are. Hey, I have great respect for the real “wine people”, they deal in a science and an art, but so do painters and they don’t walk into a bar wearing a smock and beret.
    Later, pal.

    Irishirritant: Your welcome, man, and thanks for that great quote from Mr. Wilde.
    All the best!

  24. 24 JSaw May 3, 2010 at 2:23 pm

    Ah Scribbler…

    Being a California transplant myself (and guilty of the aforementioned snobbishness, alas) — the cure for all this pretentiousness is a New Yorker saying: “No-one wants to hear your BS so just choose something… a**hole” (Granted I know as a bartender you aren’t at liberty to provide that particular piece of advice.)

    Happened to me a few times in grad school and I was a quick learner!

    That being said, a little back and forth, even over a glass of wine, is a good thing. Something along the lines of “I’d like a big, fruity, red” or similar gives enough info for a suggestion without crossing that line into the inane.

    For your reading pleasure a “paper” called ON WINE BULLSH*T:
    http://www.wine-economics.org/journal/content/Volume2/number2/Full%20Texts/richardquandt.pdf

    The NYT also had an article a few months back that said humans can really only differentiate 4-6 flavors in a solution, so all these wine experts are in essence lying when they say they taste 20-30 flavors.

  25. 25 Jim, Foolish Literalist May 3, 2010 at 3:01 pm

    I had a similar, but beer-based, experience in a hotel bar in Chicago. After some loudmouth (no idea where he was from) loudly interrogated the twenty-three year old bartender on the relative hoppiness and maltiness and maybe he talked about body, of her available drafts, and tasted a couple that sounded as if they might not disappoint his demanding connoisseur’s palate, he said “I’ll have a Bud Lite, bottle”.

  26. 26 Jager May 3, 2010 at 3:20 pm

    Scribbler,

    From one Jack drinker to another thanks! One of my long time pals is a very serious bourbon drinker. So serious, he was invited to a small batch get together a few months ago where the guest of honor was Jim Beam’s great, great grandson. DJB told me that when he was introduced to JB IV he couldn’t help thinking, “I pay this son of a bitch’s mortgage”

  27. 27 scribbler50 May 3, 2010 at 6:52 pm

    JSaw: So they knocked it out of you early, huh? As Martha would say, “That’s a good thing!” But I do agree, man, there’s a time and place for a discussion on wine between people who are into wine and know what they’re talking about… but the time and place is not my place at a time when I’m busy as hell. Meanwhile, just read your linked article. Terrific and most informative. Thanks a lot.

    Foolish Literalist: Your comment is far from foolish. Love that little anecdote. Reminds me of something I witnessed as a customer at a rather famous place here in New York called P.J. Clarke’s. The bartender said to a guy he knew, “We just got this new beer in called Rattlesnake. Wanna’ try it?” The guy said, “Hey, yeah, thanks, I would!” and then he proceeded to go through all the same bullshit you described. But when he went so far as to hold it up to the light to examine it’s amber (or whatever the hell he was looking for when he did that), his wife who was standing next to him said, much to my sheer delight, “If I didn’t know you I’d think you were the biggest fucking asshole in this whole bar!!!” Maybe not pure amber but pure gold!

  28. 28 Scicurious May 3, 2010 at 7:54 pm

    Hehehe. I always worry about looking stupid when I choose wine, and now when I go to Scotland, I’m going to be WAY to scared to choose a whisky! But hilarious as always, dear Scrib.

  29. 29 scribbler50 May 3, 2010 at 8:10 pm

    Sci: You never have to worry about that… with whiskey or wine. It’s fine to simply ask rather than to fake it. A bartender or waiter appreciates that. Not with questions like, “Tell me about your reds!” like the gal in my post who wanted a litany, but a simple query as to the type of drink you’re looking for. Questions like, “Which of your whites is dryer?” etc. Or, “Which of your bourbons is less likely to make me throw stones at holy pictures?” πŸ™‚

  30. 30 Petro May 3, 2010 at 8:34 pm

    “And as far as your stripper friend is concerned, I’m obviously not a shrink but perhaps her wine ordering performance is an attempt at sophistication BECAUSE she’s a stripper. You know, an, β€œI got class!” kind of thing.”

    You have no idea how correct you are! Or perhaps you do. I know the girl, and you are absolutely spot on.

    Oh, and props for yet another Wolcott highlight!

  31. 31 mvpalex May 4, 2010 at 4:29 am

    So so sorry you have to put up with the wine-ers, I hope to see you sometime and taste your beers. Great story, keep it up….

  32. 32 scribbler50 May 4, 2010 at 12:59 pm

    Thanks, Alex, and you, my friend, know whereof I speak!

  33. 33 blue girl May 5, 2010 at 6:56 am

    Becoming an educated wine snob is on my list of things to do, even though I’ve been trying my entire life — to no avail. My mind, for some reason, cannot remember what’s good and what’s not and why. I’d be a nice wine snob though, if I could ever get it down!

    Here’s my uneducated MO: If it’s cold out? A dry red. Warm out? A dry white. If I’m buying a bottle at the store? I look for the word “dry” and a well designed label.

    Great post, Mr. Scribbler. And I love your new banner! Kudos to Arikia!

  34. 34 blue girl May 5, 2010 at 7:35 am

    Ha! After reading your great post, I clicked over to Ms. Gwyneth Paltow’s blog, GOOP, and guess what? A post about vino:

    GOOP: When serving a cheese course with a strong, smelly cheese included, what do you suggest?

    I usually eat cheese after a restaurant meal and just stick with whatever I’m drinking. If I’m pairing wines with a stinky cheese it might be a Dal Forno Amarone or Valpolicella. They can really stand tall, but in general, I just go with what I would like to or am already drinking. Wine and cheese work together unless the wine is really light.

    Now, I do get the whole really light wine’s probably not a good match with any kind of cheese. Something I get and can remember.

    But, really. Who eats smelly cheese? AND, more importantly, who serves smelly cheese to guests?

    “Here have some really smelly cheese with a nice Dal Forno Amarone! Sniff both first! Bury your noise right in ’em!”

    Now that’s something you’ll never hear me say, not only because I’d never serve smelly cheese, but I’d never remember that Dal Forno Amarone goes great with it!

  35. 35 scribbler50 May 5, 2010 at 10:11 am

    Blue Girl: To your first comment let me say I like your style… simple yet discerning, uncomplicated yet intricate, timid yet bold, frivolous yet somber, ornery yet civil, whimsical yet precise, naive yet worldly, red not white, yet white not red when the temperature rises. That to me should place you at the forefront of oenology. And I KNOW you’d be a “nice wine snob” in the process!

    And as to your second comment I’m still laughing out loud. “Here have some really smelly cheese with a nice Dal Forno Amarone! Sniff both first! Bury your nose right in ’em!” Priceless! (And if you need to take a shower afterward it’s the second door on the left!)

    Hey, thanks, as always, for checkin’ in… you’re a stitch, Blue Girl. And thanks on behalf of Arikia, re: the new banner.

  36. 36 Jennifer May 5, 2010 at 10:26 am

    This was a pleasure to read.

    Also, the new banner is great.

  37. 37 scribbler50 May 5, 2010 at 11:12 am

    Thank you, Jennifer, (hah!) though it wasn’t a pleasure to live through! Tell me about your reds, indeed! πŸ™‚

  38. 38 El Snacktator May 5, 2010 at 11:17 am

    El once had a friend who considered themselves a wine aficionado, but who consistently pronounced Pinot noir as “Pinot neeyore”. El couldn’t help but imagine a glass of gray wine with big ears and a pink bow tied to the stem.

  39. 39 scribbler50 May 5, 2010 at 11:43 am

    EL: That’s wonderful. And it certainly “pooh pooh’s” all pretentions!

  40. 40 doe May 5, 2010 at 3:00 pm

    Have not stopped laughing. Next time ask them if they’re rehearsing for the new reality show on the Wine Channel. What do these chicks do when the pollen count is high? Sneeze into their glasses? Many people have tried to convert me into a wine snob–but luckily, my memory is so lousy that I cannot for the life of me remember what tastes like what, much less what goes with what. Which simply means: every day brings a wonderful new adventure, at least in a glass. Does anyone ever come in wanting to discuss the peaty taste of Lagavulin versus Laphroig? Or does that sort out the men from…well, the Whine Channelers….

  41. 41 scribbler50 May 5, 2010 at 5:02 pm

    Hey there, doe, what a pleasure to have you at the bar!

    Good point on the pollen count dilemma but luckily for “these chicks” it was low that night because I heard no gurgling “ker-choos!!!” echoing from snifters. And now that you bring it up, forget the peaty “taste” of Lagavulin vs. Laphroig (if that’s possible), let’s discuss the bouquet of each… or should I say, the industrial strength pungency of each reminiscent of a bathroom cleaner. Good lord, have you had the pleasure? If that sorts out the men from the boys, well… I’m embarrassed to finish that sentence.

    Thanks for stopping by, doe, and I repeat… you absolutely have one of the most beautiful blogs, both visually and in your words, on the Net. Period!

  42. 42 Cara Ellison May 6, 2010 at 12:47 pm

    Hi. I came over from Sheila’s blog and I am so so so glad I did. I am gobbling up your backlist.

    Your writing is lovely – sharp, clear, and oddly non-jaded. Brava.

  43. 43 scribbler50 May 6, 2010 at 5:19 pm

    Welcome to Bar-land, Cara, truly glad you’re enjoying what I’m pouring. But listen, since I happen to be a guy, I’ll take your “Brava” as a “Bravo”, okay? πŸ™‚ (Sorry, I couldn’t resist.)

    Thanks for stopping by and “Cheers”!

  44. 44 dumpster May 6, 2010 at 6:44 pm

    First, I question whether any bar not completely deserted could be bullshit-free. Second, doesn’t your P.J. Clarke’s anecdote suggest the attitude is not a matter of geography?

  45. 45 Cara Ellison May 6, 2010 at 6:49 pm

    Sorry. Brav-O! : )

  46. 46 scribbler50 May 6, 2010 at 7:56 pm

    dumpster: If you want to make that argument (though I think you’re splitting hairs) I’ll give it to you, both of your points hold water. Of course bullshit is everywhere, especially in every bar, but none at the time of that incident was apparent or overt. In other words, none was afoot that I saw or heard, okay? It was a nice crowd, politely doing its thing, no one saying, “Hey, how about me!” THAT kind of bullshit.

    And as far as geography goes, if you go back to that opening sentence, I said (“not all, of course, but most”) so I didn’t indict the entire state of California. I talked about certain visitors who exist in droves. So, by the same token, (and to your second point) I would also never presume that New Yorkers don’t have “attitude” or are bullshit free. I mean, look up the word “attitude” and it will most likely say, “a whole bunch of New Yorkers”. And I’ve written about those New Yorkers and probably will again, they just had nothing to do with this story.

    I appreciate your comment… peace!

  47. 47 M.Lane May 8, 2010 at 8:41 am

    Hello! I just found your blog and I really enjoy your writing. I am listing you on my blogroll as BTS fits right into my world. I look forward to your future posts.

    ML
    mlanesepic.blogspot.com

  48. 48 scribbler50 May 8, 2010 at 10:04 am

    M.Lane: Thank you for that and welcome aboard. I’ll start you a tab!

  49. 49 paulcutlip August 26, 2013 at 9:35 am

    I’m late to the party here but I feel your pain. Do NOT get me started on New Yorkers who move to Florida then suddenly become insufferably picky about their pizzas and bagels. (Oh by the way, the orange juice does matter and we can taste the difference) πŸ™‚

  50. 50 scribbler50 August 26, 2013 at 9:55 am

    Paulcutlip: And I feel YOUR pain re: the New York transplants. I guess territorial snobbery knows no boundaries! Thanks for your comment, Sir, on this long, long ago post.


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