Oh boy, this one was…interesting. Great-interesting, not bad-interesting. It took over 2 months and about 60 or so bars for Scott, the other Westchester Mag editorial assistant, and me to narrow down to a handful of our favorites in the County. We hit bad dives and sipped warmish beer while watching the gin-soaked ghosts of cirrhosis-yet-to-come doze at the sticky bar. But we also hit ultra-luxe lounges that made us rethink our career choices. And everything in between. By the end, I could hear my liver let out a tiny, anguished scream every time I put liquid to lips. I think I’m still recovering. And by recovering, I mean drinking.
This is my job. My job is to eat and drink and travel and work out and speak with really interesting people and write with really fun people. I might not be blowing hundies in those ultra-luxe lounges every night, but my god, I’m not complaining.
That’s a lie. I complain all the time. About everything. Because I’m a Millennial, and that’s how we cope with global warming, and the Boomers taking all our Social Security, and living with our parents, and coming to terms with the fact that there are physical consequences to eating mac and cheese. Maybe it’s just me?
Anyway, originally published in the January 2014 edition of Westchester Magazine.