Travel Bars — Or, One for the Road

We've got some relatives from a very, very flat state. Which, to my way of thinking, explains all sorts of behavior. Not the least of which would be drinking. And, being sane, they try as often as possible to get away from said flat state. Being drinkers of a slightly older generation and-old-fashioned-it's-five-o'clock-somewhere sort, they bring the bar with them. My memories of such are that it was portable, opened with a latch, and had everything you could possible want to make drinks long since out of fashion: Harvey Wallbangers. Old fashioneds. Pisco Sours. Sidecars. Stuff that'll put hair on your chest, turn the lights on, flip your lid and probably lay waste to seven city blocks if ignited with a genuine Cuban cee-gar.

Point being, if you want to travel in style, bring a towel, and bring your own travel bar so you never have to put up with your hosts rotgut, cut-rate, well-drinks ever again. To wit: If you're flying on your own private jet to your very own island, flying first class on someone else's dime, or if you're traveling coach like the rest of us!.

Safe travels, my fellow lush lifers!