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It’s a $12 beer
On friendship, and good listening
This is a luxury habit. At the northwest corner of Melrose and La Cienega, there is a rooftop bar, that charges at least (as of two years ago) $12 for a Peroni. The Italian import. A….peroni. In 2019! Many things, countless items, have value that exceeds this exact Peroni at this exact location, on a summer night when the talking is good and 2am saddles up to you like the college friend you always had a thing for but never worked it out with. It’s good intentions, mixed with opportunism, and a dash of delusional optimism…will this beer really taste that good? A corner store half a block away sells these Peronis as a six-pack for less than the single bottle that bartender just opened. And yet…I always go back. You can always return home; you can always return to love. This Peroni is adjacent to ascendance. To exist in the singularity of entertainment, and be wholly unassociated, is to be divinely unencumbered. At a party, there’s no chance your outside-looking-in-career will be traditionally interesting, it’s certainly not worthy of a LinkedIn follow-up or unabashed pleas for nepotism down the line. So, there’s only one item on the evening’s packing list: humility. Ask someone why they think it’s OK to charge $12 for a Peroni when the cocktails are $15. Ask someone why it’s OK to charge $15 for a gin & tonic (some other time). To be adjacent to the experience…
