| HOMEPAGE “Cocktail” or “searching for my flügelbinder” Flaming Lamborghini - 1 oz Galliano - 1 oz Kahlua - 1 oz Blue Curacao - 1 oz Chartreuse Directions: Pour Galliano & Chartreuse into the martini glass. Pour the Kahlua & Blue Curacao into different shot glasses. Light the martini glass and drink fast with a straw. While drinking add both shot glasses to the martini glass. I graduated Magna Cum Trashed from the Australian Bar Tending School. I have the diploma to prove this; sadly I never really got to use it. My final assignment was concocting the above mentioned brew, and drinking it to boot. My suggestion is to never ever try this drink. As I was sucking through the straw, per instruction, the straw caught fire and I ended up burning my throat. What fun we had that graduating evening. I held two lucrative jobs during those days. By day, I was a boomerang salesman. By night, I put on my mask and delivered pizzas. Why bother attending a bar school if you are making the bucks you are? Simple, a trip to the local Cineplex opened up my eyes. Cairns, gateway to the Great Barrier Reef, home of the Cairns Cineplex which counted 1 theater. In 1988 I got religious. In 1988 I realized that—even though I could catch a boomerang with one hand while whistling “Waltzing Mathilda” in Dminor, and at nights I used my in-between-dropping-off-pizza time to create new pies (up until a couple of months ago the pizza joined still had the Willem’s special listed as #9)—I was missing something. Life held no direction, had no meaning. I was spending my time between sun tanning 10 minutes a day, reading books, sleeping and working. Seeing as I had reached the goal I had set for my trip—during my stay down-under I was going to learn to juggle, which took me 2 weeks to master—I had the need for new input, new knowledge. My church; the Cineplex. If you have never seen the movie Cocktail then it is a safe bet to say you are no drinker. Cocktail is to bar lushes what Rosemary’s Baby is to priests. The moment I walked out of the Cineplex that fateful night I knew where my future was heading, straight to the bar. The ‘80s is a decade known for many things, most importantly that the “American Dream” was out there just like the illusive flügelbinder. It is this ideology that made Cocktail possible. I mean, have you ever drunk a fuzzy-nipple without the cream? Cocktail tells the story of one Brian Flanagan who has a dream. His dream is, and this is going to come as a surprise, to get rich as quickly and as easily as possible. How does one get rich in a speedy fashion? Well, considering it is the ‘80s you have but two options: become a pusher of the Columbian Marching Powder, or a stockbroker. Flanagan, being Irish and all, figures that selling drugs isn’t part of his heritage, so on to Wall Street he goes. Finding rejection after each interview, lacking the work experience needed, that or he wasn’t wearing a snazzy tie, Brian soon finds out that it is a lot tougher then he though; the getting Rich Quick and Easy idea. Flanagan, being Irish and all, figures that the next best thing is to work in a bar. Enter Brian Brown, and enter wisdom. It is the character of Doug Coughlin, a professional spirit fuser/philanderer/philosopher who takes young Flanagan under his wings. It is Coughlin who imparts life’s little lessons on Brian via his “Laws”. These laws change as frequently as the wind does on a Montana plain, the truest form of philosophy in my book. He teaches him how to handle the bottles, make them spin in the air and behind the back. Or how to catch ice cubs in a mixing glass while simultaneously lighting a patron’s smoke and getting them to show the color of their undies. Most importantly he teaches Brian to realize his dreams. One night, after a dazzling display of bottle juggling and lip-syncing, Doug and Brian are asked to join the crew of the hottest club in town: The Cell Block. It is in this new venue that Brian discovers his hidden talent for verse, and becomes the last barman poet. This Cell Block is nothing but a metaphor for the evil ways of ‘80s excessiveness when the eternal pursuit of the all mighty dollar was all that mattered. Needless to say Brian and Doug fit in perfectly, using their charms to line their pockets and their bed sheets. Lose change and lose women is what it’s all about, our two protagonist are riding the gravy train. But, gravy turns cold if the heaters don’t work, in this case relationships. One night, while drunk and horny as he always is, Doug decides to chat up Brian’s current love interest, which leads thunder in paradise. Was Doug just trying to satiate his sexual appetite, or again trying to teach Brian one of life’s lessons? Whatever it was, the outcome resulted in a change of scenery: Jamaica—where the water is blue, the beaches are white, and people love a daiquiri or Red Stripe. Having settled nicely in his new surroundings, Brian is living the easy life. No New York rush-rush, no plastic people, no rain and most importantly no Coughlin’s laws to mess his life up. How many years have passed we never find out, but one sunny afternoon finds our favorite bartender eye in eye with Miss Jordan Mooney. It is love at first sight. Jordan and Brian start running around the island, being all lubyduby and such. Sequences of them making love under a waterfall, dancing in the streets with the less fortunate locals, riding horseyback through ocean surf, and on and on it goes. If you wouldn’t know any better you would have thought this movie to be a promotional video sponsored by the Jamaican Tourist Board and Red Stripe. Jordan, we find out, is a struggling artist/waitress hailing from New York. She is a perfect match for Brian who is a struggling millionaire/barkeep in his own right. One day he is trying to explain to Jordan the philosophy behind getting rich via the “flügelbinder” concept. Somewhere on this globe there are hundreds if not thousands of people crafting away on these flügelbinders (or whatever they are called) enabling people like Jordan to enjoy a frothy drink with a monkey climbing an umbrella. Yes, the flügel binds the umbrella. If only Brian could figure out his flügelbinder then he too can be rich. Jordan is all supportive as she believes in a man searching for his flügelbinder. Brian gazes into the distance, a constipated look on his face while his brain tries to kick start yet another wet dream, uhr, I meant Cocktail and Dream. Enter Doug, who we soon find out, has been spending the last couple of years a lot more fruitfully: he has landed himself a sugar-mommy. How? When? Where? We don’t really find out, we do find out that living the high-life sure beats working away behind a bar in a resort. Or is it? Jealous as he is, Doug doesn’t seem all too happy with the flowering love between “poor” Jordan and “struggling” Brian. Had his protégée not been listening to all those morning sessions? What happened to “Cocktails and Dreams”, and the rich-bitch to supply the cash? “I bet you couldn’t chat up a wealthy woman if your life depended on it young Flannigan,” says nouveaux riche Doug, “a bottle of Louis XIV to the victor goes.” Well, something like that was said. Like a nice bout of herpes will come and go, so does the good life for Brian. Having set his sights on a rich spinster, he moves in for the kill and subsequently kills any hopes of him and Jordan finding out if there is a flügelbinder at the end of the rainbow. Jordan shows up just in time to see the new lovebirds leave in a drunken embrace and decides to embrace a palm tree before flying back to New York (unbeknownst to philandering Flannagan who, come next morn, shows up at Jordan’s place to find her best friend giving him the evil stare and a “what did you do to her” kind of grilling). Still focused on his flügelbinder-ways, and with a rich paramour on his side, Brian also heads back to New York to make it big. A big stink is what he makes. First he throws a hissyfit at an art show, getting all fed up about being treated like a personal slave. He says something, old spinster slaps him across the face, he kicks building, bye-bye dreams, and hello Doug here is your treasured bottle of Louis XIV. Right before tucking tail and heading to his friend he manages to do some investigative work, to find out where Jordan works, but more importantly where she lives. Seems that Jordan hadn’t been straightforward, seems that her last name was more apros pos then we thought, seems her daddy was loaded. That’s right kids, Mr. Mooney has moocho mooney! I shall spare you the details of their conversation, but Jordan isn’t to keen on seeing young Flannigan again. Doug, however, is very much pleased to see his protégé again. A good time as ever to celebrate, let the drinking begin. After having a couple at Doug’s new business they head on over to a more private locale. Once they crack open the bottle of XIV, the philosophizing begins. Turns out that owning a bar is not such a lucrative business; kick-backs, broken bottles, patrons who don’t pay their tab… Screw entrepreneurship, being a juggler of bottles and sleeping with different women is better on the psyche. You guessed it, Doug is depressed. He tells Brian that he shouldn’t give up on his dreams, that he should make amends with Jordan, and that he should go in search of his flügelbinder. And so we head into the final stretch of the movie. Brian fights for Jordan and wins, Doug fights with Louis XIV and loses all. The lesson taught is that money buys you temporary escape from reality, but it can’t buy Flannigan away from his girly, her pregnant belly, and their flügelbinder future <-Cocktails and Dreams, in neon pink, and coming to a nearby mall soon. What a feel good story. As I left the movie theater that evening I decided that I too wanted to be a bartender. I wanted to make other people happy, it is a noble ideal of mine. And how does one make other people happy? By dazzling them with pyrotechnics, verse and getting them tanked out of their shorts. Thus I took the course, passed with flying colors while choking on a Flaming Lamborghini. However, something came up and I never got to work the other side of the bar. Whatever happened to my flügelbinder? … |