Out of the Humidor
From the Print Edition:
Jack Nicholson, Summer 95
(continued from page 13)
Dana Point, California
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I am a bartender at a popular busy restaurant/bar in a suburb of Milwaukee. There are many nights during a busy dinner that I find myself maxed-out to the point of being (as we say it) "in the weeds." One huge side-effect is stress. I have recently found the ultimate antidote. During all the hoopla, I need only look in the drawer where I left my "cigar of the night" to receive a second wind. Then, after the waitresses punch out, the dinner crowd departs, the glasses are washed, the tickets are rung into the register and I have a chance to catch my breath, I open that drawer and pull out my "bone," my reward for being a good dog.
As I light it, I usually notice three different reactions from people: The first reaction is amusement at "the bartender smoking a cigar." (Little do they know how relaxed and separated I feel from the simple yet subtly complex act of lighting up.) The second is disgust, but I take true pleasure in pointing to the "Smokeeter" we've installed and from knowing that, sorry, there is nothing they can do about it. The third reaction is the most prominent. It is the look of jealousy. These people ask earnestly if we sell cigars or where I bought it from or what kind it is, and they always remark on how much they love cigars, all the time saying this with their eyes on mine.
Because of this, I enjoy it all the more! I'd also like to note that my girlfriend loves cigars, too. This seems like a great set-up for me, and it is, until midway through my cigar, she begs to try it, and I soon find lipstick all over it! Oh well, nothing's perfect, I guess. So to all you cigar-loving bartenders out there--cheers!
David "Mertz" Moertl
Centennial Bar & Grille
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My daughter is sleeping, my husband is downstairs. I have my bubbles, perfume and candles, soft music is playing, and I'm sipping Grand Marnier and smoking the sweetest Cuban Cohiba there is.
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