The snacks and refreshments required the purchase of coupons and there was just one person dishing them out to the milling crowd. After standing patiently in line while it remained static for what seemed like forever, I discovered that the men in front were ordering their chhotas and burras – this entailed stating the tipples, the quantity and numbers. For example, three large whiskeys (name of brand), two small rums (name of brand and either dark or white), one small brandy (name of brand), two vodkas, and a couple of cokes. The man at the counter would then have to check the rates, calculate the individual cost, tot up and total, enter it manually on the receipt, receive the cash, and dish out the change.
I tried my luck. ‘Is there a ladies’ queue?’ The gent before me bestowed a genial smile and a not so genial reply, ‘This is a private venue. You get ‘ladies only’ in government office!’ I tried another tack. ‘Separate line for ‘Senior citizens’? The same gent turned round and gave me a funny look before facing forward again. Oh well, I resigned myself to my fate and spent the time profitably, calculating how much the bill would be. It was quite some time before I made it to the counter and I had the amounts down pat: so many plates (name of item), rate, total. The man at the counter scribbled away to my dictation, tore off the counterfoil and favoured me with a wide grin and ‘Thank you, Ma’am!’ If only those men before me had been efficient tipplers.
Apart from improving my mental math ability, there was one more lesson I learnt: When you’re hungry don’t join a queue of thirsty men!
(Perhaps, on second thoughts, I should have captioned this post 'Oh Chivas Regal...!)
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