Lisa orders a glass of Champagne. I ask for a martini. Waiter arrives with a bottle of Taittinger and a condensation-covered, silver shaker. He opens the wine, pours Lisa a glass, puts the bottle on our table, gives my drink another shake, pours it over a chilled glass already containing three skewered olives, and bids us farewell. The Taittinger bottle remains. Our eyebrows raise (my left slightly more than my right). What did we order?
We settle in. What’s the worst that could happen? We point out the mistake? We polish off a good bottle of wine? Maybe it’s free? We relax in our comfortable chairs, grab a wasabi pea or two. Nobody is jostling next to us. There’s no smell of fresh vomit wafting in from the back. The bartender isn’t some college-aged douche looking for a lay. Things are good.
Seasons Bar, Four Seasons Hotel | Chicago
Club chairs, wasabi peas, full-height tables — the Seasons Bar is definitely a good hotel bar. And there are drinks.
Lisa orders a glass of Champagne. I ask for a martini. Waiter arrives with a bottle of Taittinger and a condensation-covered, silver shaker. He opens the wine, pours Lisa a glass, puts the bottle on our table, gives my drink another shake, pours it over a chilled glass already containing three skewered olives, and bids us farewell. The Taittinger bottle remains. Our eyebrows raise (my left slightly more than my right). What did we order?
We settle in. What’s the worst that could happen? We point out the mistake? We polish off a good bottle of wine? Maybe it’s free? We relax in our comfortable chairs, grab a wasabi pea or two. Nobody is jostling next to us. There’s no smell of fresh vomit wafting in from the back. The bartender isn’t some college-aged douche looking for a lay. Things are good.