When I hear “bloody Mary” I think travel, breakfast or a morning hot tub on a non-work day if someone else is making it.
(I don’t like making them; something about not measuring and therefore not tasting good.)
It’s interesting how certain drinks are associated with certain times of the day or activities.
The travel part started eons ago when my sister, Pam, and I missed a flight. We went to the airport bar and ordered a bloody Mary, or two. We had to do something to pass the time.
From then on we would have one before nearly every flight. We introduced it to people we traveled with. Some took to it, others thought drinking alcohol at 6am was a bit much, and others just don’t like tomato juice and vodka. And some have it sans vodka.
To me, it’s a festive way to start a trip.
The Reno airport makes a good spicy bloody Mary—or at least last time I was there it did. I was so enjoying one that I nearly missed my flight. How could I tell people on the other end that the reason I was delayed was because I was drinking? Not good. Luckily, I didn’t have to have that conversation.
This month I had my first BM at the Palm Springs airport. While I look forward to a return trip to the desert, I am definitely going to pass on this drinking ritual. It had to be the worst bloody Mary I’ve ever had. I couldn’t even finish it. I should have known it was going to be bad when the garnish was a single olive.
I don’t seem to have that many rituals or traditions, but this is one of them. I doesn’t matter if I’m flying alone, I still stop at the airport bar on most flights.