Bartender logic

I'm at Earl's yesterday evening, drinking on Royal Crown Cola, not Crown Royal 'n Coke and shooting straight eight. I'm losing since I seriously believe that booze makes me better. One Jameson and two PBRs would set me in the zone. I have eye witnesses. Anyway, back to the game. Finding myself two games down already, I excuse myself from my new Japanese pool master(this guy was almost too good) and head back to the bar for a refill. The bartender, who has been pouring me Tanqueray and tonics since I turned 21, says, "More Coke?"

"Please."

"You know it is a bad habit." (The bartender is French.)

"What? Coke? What about gin?"

I know how it works, unless the patron is either your best friend or the one that's writing you into the will, as a bartender, I'd rarely question an order unless the customer was getting sassy or crossyfaced. And always you'd get a personal taxi if you looked like you had an extra twenty bones to spend on getting home. But shit, she'd make a horrible tooth fairy.

Oh, and Steep? That extreme high skiing documentary? Save the evening ticket or even a matinee... just rent it. The cinematography will not be lost on your baby silver screen. It was enjoyable, just not mixing jujubees and buttered popcorn-munchable good.