Return to the Familiar World Before the Pandemic With a Basket and a Guitar
On Wednesday morning, I got into my rented car and drove from Montreal (where I live) to New York, recently deciding to dive into the water of social reintegration. It’s been 17 months since I left Montreal. It’s 75 weeks. It is 527 days. That’s 45,499,949 seconds when I didn’t do what I did with great regularity: travel.
As someone whose primary way of dealing with life is … you know, just leaving, that seemed impossible to me before Quar. But I took isolation seriously and seriously, and thankfully, thanks to my second primary way of coping with life – solitary and self-contained self-righteousness – it wasn’t all that bad to stay inside.
The trip itself was familiar and comfortable without incident – even just pleasant. Few things carry freedom for me, like a car with a full tank, an open road, and a playlist ready to play. (This is perhaps the most American trait in me.) I felt inspired by this literal and metaphorical road, devoid of bumps and ditches. Maybe returning to civilization won’t be so daunting in the end. Maybe it would be like riding a bike (or um, driving a car).
Oh sweet optimism, why should I bother you? As soon as I entered the garage and began a winding descent into hell, which is the drop-off point for Avis cars, I knew I was wrong.
So now I’m in New York like a creature that has just hatched and is trying to take its first tentative steps in a world that is chaotic and overbearing. Or like Brendan Fraser’s Ice Age when he melts in Blast From the Past. Has New York always been this noisy? Is it hectic? Is it hot? Has the light always been this bright? Was the sidewalk always so crowded? It’s a steroid slick sensory dive, like you’re trying to board a train that is passing by.
The answer, of course, is yes – New York has always been like this, but now I feel that I have not just dropped my toe, I have involuntarily plunged into the deep end.
I immediately checked into my hotel room and have not left since then. Normally, I wouldn’t prescribe cocktail as a liquid courage, but for my intent and purposes, I could actually use Bin & Gitters right now. Easy to make, refreshing as hell, and contain as much booze as it can help calm the flood.
For Bin & Gitters, you will need:
- 30 g lime juice
- ½ ounce simple syrup
- 2 ounces gin
- Lavish touches of Angostura
Pour lime juice, simple syrup and gin into a glass and stir well to combine all ingredients. Fill a glass with crushed ice and strain a quarter of the lime, syrup and gin mixture into it, then tamp the ice with the bottom of the glass. (The liquid will melt the ice slightly, freeing up more space in the glass for maximum crushed ice capacity.) Add more ice and strain the remaining liquid into a glass filled with ice. Add an angostura that will create a float – use as much as you like … I really like it – and then add more crushed ice on top. Take a deep breath and take a long sip. Exhale. Enjoy. Everything will be fine. ( Probably. )