I was planning to go see a movie that I had been anticipating for quite some time, Opus, from former GQ writer Mark Anthony Green. It stars Ayo Edeberri and one of my longtime favorites, John Malkovich. I was so excited to see the movie that I decided, like in the old days or the period when films used to be the dominant medium, that I would order my movie tickets at the box office – you know, save on the Fandango fee and give the movie theater more of the lion’s share of my one lonely ticket sale. I checked the theater beforehand on Fandango, and it was half empty, so the possibility of it being sold out was very unlikely unless a group of American University theater students suddenly decided to book the rest of the seats. So, I made my way out to Alamo Drafthouse on Bryant St. while playing Bobby Womack and Jay Worthy. I hadn’t been this excited to see a film in quite some time. When I parked and started walking my way into the theater, I got that nervous/excited feeling that I would get when I was younger going to the movies –  that sense that you are entering a cinematic universe that could change your perspective or theatrical pallet – and then I asked the box office for a ticket at 7:45 to Opus. I saw the half-filled auditorium on the screen as I began to pick my potential seat, and just like some cruel sequence in a live-action sitcom show, the box office agent paused and informed me of something that made my cinematic-watching dreams crash. She could not sell me a ticket to the movie. I was at a gasp because – why couldn’t I? Surely some wealthy arts donor magnate didn’t purchase the remaining tickets? But it was due to the Alamo’s ticket movie policy, which states that no one can come into the theater after the first 20 minutes of a film (even though that’s typically just the trailers). Was this something that everyone knew, and I was just out of the loop?  Also, I couldn’t get over the fact that they wouldn’t let me buy a ticket for an indie film that has gotten middle-of-the-road promotion. I WAS TRYING TO SUPPORT THE ARTS, YOU VAGRANT!! 

I wanted to make a fuss, but I saw the on-premise security guard and decided to put my tail between my legs and walk out and try to make the best of my night even though it revolved around going to see this movie.  

But in my overly optimistic brain, I tried not to succumb to my emotions of despair and disappointment and replaced them with a shot of Jameson, since this St Patrick’s Day weekend. So I went right across the street from the theater to one of my favorite watering holes, Metro Bar. But of course, this being St Patty’s Day, I was welcomed to lines as long as the Anacostia River, and somehow the despair of my night started to creep up again. Maybe I should go back home and take my L and eat Wendy’s in my car while I let GNX play to get some back of spark for tonight. Then I decided on one last ditch effort to go to the indoor food hall that includes a spot that I have favored in the past called Allegri. So I went through the winding St Patty’s Day crowd littered with drunken 20 year olds, groups of off beat dancing girls and oddly enough parents with their toddlers and sat down at the bar.  

I was greeted by a bartender who looked like he could be a heartwarming character from a Studio Ghibli anime who handed me the menu. I had to keep it very St. Patty’s Day and got a Jameson and Coke.  The Jameson and Coke was way more of an elevated Jameson and Coke with square ice cubes (ooh la la), which hit the spot and did what it needed to do. As I was finishing up the Jameson and Coke while Bad Bunny was blaring through the DJ’s speakers, I saw a fellow customer order this drink that was so beautiful that I had the same emotion that Neo had in The Matrix when he saw the lady in the red dress. This drink instantly looked photogenic and, dare I say, enchanting. It was in a long stem glass accompanied with green whip cream, tajin around the ring of the cup and a light warm orange hue. I found it on the bar’s menu, and even the drink’s name was alluring – “La Niña Del Mezcal.” As I read the description for the drink, each ingredient sounded better and better: mezcal, chareau aloe, butterfly tea, and the green cream I had seen earlier, matcha air espuma. As the bartender made the drink, or should I say crafted it, time slowed down like an 80s movie montage with Tears For Fears playing in the background. Then, he handed it to me with the utmost confidence. As I took a sip, I fell into a comfortable slumber that was filled with gratitude and cherishment that I was able to experience a drink like this. The blaring Bad Bunny playing and the drunk patrons’ conversations became mild white noise. For those 10-15 minutes as I drank this cocktail, I got the same warm feeling that I used to feel as a kid when I would enter a Toys R Us with over $40 or when I would sit on the grass and watch clouds go by on a nice day at Tucker Park. It was bliss, actual bliss. From the quality of the mezcal to the eye-catching matcha espuma, whose taste matched the look, it was truly excellent. As I wrapped up and got my check, I shook the bartender’s hand, looked him in the eye, and said thank you. He might have thought I was just another satisfied patron, but if he only knew he had turned my lackluster solo movie night into a mixological experience I would never forget.