- Aimee Levitt
“I want food,” my friend complained.
- Aimee Levitt
- Peter the Rabbit
Finally, our drinks arrived. Mine was not what I had asked for. But they let us keep it. Unfortunately, it tasted too medicinal for either of us to enjoy. (It was made primarily from Grey Goose vodka and Chareau aloe vera liqueur, spelled “liquor” on the menu. I’m a reporter and my friend is an editor. Noticing these things makes us feel superior.) The drink I had actually ordered, was even stronger and had almost none of the green cucumber-y flavor the server had promised. My friend fared better—she’d gotten Peter the Rabbit, a concoction of gin and cardamom-infused carrot juice—but she was puzzled as to what to do with the carrot garnish.
After that, the food came pretty quickly. It was amazing. Or maybe it just seemed fast because on the TV, things had become fascinatingly absurd and surreal. An army of American GIs was marching in tandem with another army of Asian women in coolie hats. Somehow they all acquired big cards and did a card stunt, as at the Rose Bowl. At first it showed the American flag. Then, when they flipped the cards, it turned into a portrait of FDR.
Maybe someday I will go back to Miss Ricky’s, but only if it’s late at night and I am either slightly tipsy or the rest of the evening has been extremely strange and I really want to stay in the Loop. I will order cake and watch Busby Berkeley dance numbers while I wait for it, and all will be right with the world.
