A couple of weeks ago on Saturday night, myself and T went to Floridita in London for a late meal. I'd never been before, but I'd had a good time in the original when I visited Cuba a few years ago, so I was interested to see what the London version was like.
We arrive around 11pm and when the waiter asks us what we want to drink, I can't help remembering a two line poem attributed to Ernest Hemingway which I'd seen up on the wall in the tiny Bodeguita bar in Havana:
My mojitos at La BodeguitaAlthough drinking cocktails can be a bit dangerous, it seems churlish not to drink daiquiris, so we ask the waiter to bring us a couple.
My daiquiris at El Floridita
"But which ones sir?" replies the waiter, with a tone in his voice that seems to suggest that it was stupid of me to assume that there was only one type.
When I look at the cocktail list I realise that there are five daquiries available, imaginatively named "Daquiri No. 1", "Daquiri No. 2", and so on. So we start with Daquiri No. 1, and proceed through No. 2, No. 3 and No. 4, by which time I need to visit the toilets.
Having used the urinal, I go to the sink and start washing my hands when I notice a toilet attendant approaching. I can see that without asking me, the attendant intends to pour some liquid soap on my hands. I really hate that kind of behaviour because it's trying to force a service on me which I don't want, don't need, and which I'm perfectly capable of doing for myself! I could simply have said "No", but instead I get mildly abusive and tell him to "piss off" in quite an aggressive tone. Even though I didn't want his help, I know my behaviour was uncalled for. The amount of alcohol that I'd drunk probably had something to do with my reaction, coupled with the fact that toilet attendants are one of my pet hates! Am I the only person who gets wound up by this situation?