Have you ever been to a bar where the bartenders juggle the bottles? I’m not talking about in Las Vegas—anything goes in Vegas plus they’re really good at it there. I am talking about these chains who insist their bartenders pretend to be trained seals for the glee of people who couldn’t get tickets to Leno. I was in one the other day for reasons I still can’t understand nor explain. It was early afternoon and I was lucky enough to witness the B-Squad Bartenders getting in a little practice. I just wanted to have a stiff Long Island Iced Tea to kill the headache from the night before. I didn’t need Dim and Half the Wit brothers, fumble-fucking their way through a bad circus routine with all five top-shelf bottles. They dropped three. Only one broke but it also shattered two glasses that managed to spray all over me. I flicked glass shards off and looked at the bottle of Crown Royal, spilling its lifeblood across the tiled floor. At least I got a free drink. I stayed for one more round—a rum and coke. Nobody got hurt and they poured in a little extra rum.

If I ever have to juggle bottles for a living, I might. I already bartend for a living. But if I have to do both of them…kill me. And if you do them both, do us all a favor and practice at home. I’ll tip; I swear.