One Martini, Two Martinis, Three Martinis...Home

How many martini's does it take before you fall down? Or start seeing prostitutes?

Let me explain...

There are good weeks at the job and there are frustrating weeks. When the weeks of wrath hit, one goes drinking. Well, probably not logical people but I never said I was one so...

After the Duke's Hotel martini's in London, I've become somewhat of an addict. I've rekindled my love affair with the original dirty and I'm a better woman for it. So at 5 p.m. yesterday my co-workers and I closed down the computers, packed up our bags and headed toward Boston's Back Bay to The Oak Room at the Fairmont Plaza Hotel.

Setting: Tall mahogany wood walls, red velvet drapes that hang from ceiling to floor, wooden circular tables flanked with plush velvet chairs. There's a grand piano in the middle of the room. The clientele is mainly business men in suits celebrating a recent deal or sorrowing over a lost account. Every once in a while you'll see an out-of-town family of four walk through the bar on their way to the Oak Room's full service dining area.

We arrived around 6 p.m. and found a table to drop our bags and bodies. The server came over with menu's and we each chose a martini to quench the thirst and cover-up the chaos from the day. One drink down... another one ordered...

Drink two:
MFTM announced she's allowed to hang with me any time because when she goes home to The Husband, he doesn't have to beg for sex. I'm still trying to figure out why that is this case and if that was a compliment. And is this a skill I can market?

Drink three:
MFTM saw a prostitute. She said. We weren't there. Bail was outside text messaging her husband, begging him to pick her up. I was in the washroom, which, after three martini's at the Oak Room, seems like a mile away. When we came back to the table, MFTM said we just missed the prostitute leaving with a short bald man. And Bail realized she just told her husband to meet her at the wrong bar.

Thankfully, all parties arrived home safely. Sometimes the simple pleasure of a martini helps smooth over a day gone wrong.