As I sit her in the lobby of the Hotel Monteleone mustering up what little strength and energy I have left for one more day of cocktail seminars and the accompanying, non-stop imbibing, I wonder: how do they do it? Presenters are arriving down the stairs and out of the elevators, looking fresh as daisies. And yet, I know they spent the previous day and night throwing it down their throats like sailors on shore leave. (Friday night has developed a reputation as quite the bacchanalia.)
I am a lightweight, elbow-bending-wise. As much as I'd like to profess otherwise, this I know now. I enjoy cocktails very much, but I know the enjoyment stops after the second or third one (depending on the strength of the drink). After that, I need to given my insides and brain tissue a break, and perhaps lie down. I have been amazed the past couple nights as I come into the lobby around 1 AM after a night on the town and spot the hale and hearty TOTC set still standing, still laughing, still going strong carousing in the Carousel Bar. Iron constitutions, these folks have. I lift my glass to them. But, right now, that glass contains coffee.