Day 41 - Party For 1

Party For 1

Matthew Ryan Fischer

 

Aaron stared at the bill. One drink was fourteen dollars and claimed it was Hennessy. There was no way that was right. Did Hennessy make a vodka? He didn’t think so. But was he really going to argue over one drink on his tab. There other drinks were eight or nine each. Fourteen wasn’t that insane of a difference. He had ordered and vodka tonic and didn’t see it on the bill. So this mystery drink had to be that, right?

It was supposed to be an easy evening. A birthday party for himself. Thrown for and by himself with him as the only guest. Guaranteed good time. No haggling over the bill, no debating the menu. He could do what he wanted and get exactly what he asked for. Nice and easy. He didn’t want to let one drink one way or the other spoil things.

“Something missing,” joked the bartender.

Was he really taking that long looking at the bill? This was his chance. He could ask what that drink was. It wouldn’t be hard. He was a little buzzed and little confused and he didn’t really want to make a big stink. He was drinking alone, and already self-conscious about that. Arguing seemed petty and poor and would only bring more undue attention.

“No, I’m fine,” he mumbled.

Aaron stumbled out in to the night. It was unseasonably warm which was nice. He had a buzz going which was also nice, and he wanted to keep it going. He was pretty sure there was a dispensary nearby. A friend had been recommending Delta 8 edibles and tonight seemed like a just about perfect night to try that out.

 

 

The next day Aaron cleaned out his wallet and found several more receipts than he expected. The Republic of Pies sold a nine dollar piece of cherry pie and their smallest coffee was nearly five dollars. Doughnut Explosion had a five dollar specialty éclair. And DiMaggio’s had a ten dollar personal pizza.

Seemed like nighttime Aaron was a bit of an asshole and really ran up the bill on daytime Aaron.

The receipt from The Federal caught his eye. He almost didn’t look at it, afraid to see how many drinks he had and how much he had charged himself for his good time. But there was that itch he had to scratch. That silly bourbon or brandy or whatever it was that he never ordered.

Hendricks.

Not Hennessy.

That made a little more sense. He didn’t normally get gin and tonics, but maybe Hendricks made a vodka. Still, fourteen dollars? Good lord things were getting expensive. Another year of inflation and he might not be able to celebrate at all. That, or he’d have to invite some other people and let them pick up a tab or two.