I wanted a nightcap last eve; just a simple little nightcap to finish my evening. In particular, I wanted a Butter Baby. I had a lovely pink-tinged vision of relaxing with my husband in a cozy oceanside hotel bar, sipping the creamy drink. We’ve been with a very active Little Squirt almost 24/7 for the past few days, and we needed a little bit of time alone to catch up and unwind.
We went to two different island bars to hunt down my request, and if it hadn’t been so late, we would have gone to more. Butter Baby yield= 0. Menus full of pina coladas and mojitos and flavored martinis. But no sensible nightcaps.
We ended up at a hotel bar right on the beach; the Tikki Lounge. (Why is there a bar called the Tikki Lounge at every tropical destination?) We sat under the stars, palm trees gently swaying in the breeze, and listened to a man sing Jimmy Buffet tunes. But all they served were fruity tropical drinks, which I am not a fan of. So I surrendered to a margarita on the rocks, which was as girly-drinky as I was going to get.
No Butter Baby, but no matter. It’s a lovely vacation, and I’m not going to complain about a beachside margarita on a gorgeous July evening.
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