They’re throwing a birthday party for me at… RiRa? It’s a big party. The staff has shoved together a bunch of tables to make a huge square table that probably seats at least twenty. And we’re still overflowing into side tables. I work my way around the table, saying hello to everyone, shaking hands. There are no surprise faces, these are all friends: M.L., M.G., D.P., D.J., my parents, brothers, A. & H…. Everyone is having a good time. A couple pints are enjoyed before anyone even considers ordering food. I can’t think of what to get. Nothing on the menu is jumping out at me. The wait staff starts taking orders from people one by one until I’m the only one left that hasn’t ordered. After a few more minutes, Mom guides me over to a side table and tells me to think some more on it, that maybe I just need to be cut off from the distraction of the crowd. I’m all alone at this side table but she tells me that she’ll be back in just a second. I wait by myself for a while, checking out the decorations on the wall. All around are the typical “Irish” decor we expected to find. But I am seated next to a waist-high dividing wall that is covered with pictures of different drinks that they offer. The drinks look like 19th century woodcut illustrations: a pint of Guinness, Boddington’s, various whiskey and Scotch varieties that they offer. Finally a waitress comes over to take my order. I convince her that I don’t want dinner and that what she should bring me instead are two chocolate chip cookies and a scoop of ice cream (since they don’t have an ice cream sandwich on the menu). And, I point to the woodcut illustration, a Dalmore. She tells me that they’re out of the Dalmore. So I ask for a Macallan instead.