Author:  Sylvia Plath
Book:    The Bell Jar
Viewed: 94 - Published at: 6 years ago

Ordering drinks always floored me. I didn't know whisky from gin and
never managed to get anything I really liked the taste of. Buddy Willard and
the other college boys I knew were usually too poor to buy hard liquor or
they scorned drinking altogether. It's amazing how many college boys don't
drink or smoke. I seemed to know them all. The farthest Buddy Willard ever
went was buying us a bottle of Dubonnet, which he only did because he was
trying to prove he could be aesthetic in spite of being a medical student.
"I'll have a vodka," I said.
The man looked at me more closely. "With anything?"
"Just plain," I said. "I always have it plain."
I thought I might make a fool of myself by saying I'd have it with ice
or gin or anything. I'd seen a vodka ad once, just a glass full of vodka
standing in the middle of a snowdrift in a blue light, and the vodka looked
clear and pure as water, so I thought having vodka plain must be all right.
My dream was someday ordering a drink and finding out it tasted wonderful.

( Sylvia Plath )
[ The Bell Jar ]
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