Long Island Iced Tea-Street Side Bar, Bangkok, Thailand

  • 1 pony of Vodka
  • 1 pony of gin
  • 1 pony of light rum
  • 1 pony of White Tequila
  • 1 pony of triple sec
  • 1 pony of fresh lemon juice
  • 3/4 pony of simple syrup

Shake, strain, and top with cola. Lemon wedge for garnish.

It was a Boogie night;
an 80’s, Neon lights, plastic love, silicon embrace kind of night on Soi Cowboy. The second of ours in Bangkok. More precisely, Sukhumwit, one of the upscale neighborhoods scaling upwards into towering mall complexes topped with moon bars fit for deities–us miscreants are left below. Left as the urban sprawl bellows from go-go bars, prostitution and massage parlors. A filth that multiplies and disseminates such as night shade across an emblematic manor.
The air was swampy. A heat that slowed you down while the drinks kept you going. Kept you fueled like the little local-driven tuk-tuk wagons that dart up and down the dark avenues. And as we left the hostel, and drudged our way towards this street notorious for its promises of promiscuity, a parched tongue plagued my friends and me. Daft and determined we marched right past Soi Cowboy and settled in a street-side bar. Just a stand some little entrepreneur set-up, apparently they’re quite common in Bangkok.

‘What do you have?’ She asked in broken English.

No, no what do you have?’ we replied to her.

‘Well, I make Long Island.’

‘There we go, a round of those.’

And there they were, 4 bamboo cups placed on the dark wooden counter. We said cheers, my bow tie began spinning and I took my first sip. Brisk and lethal, as in the states. A tang that’ll make you question how much you truly are consuming. 5 liquors mixed with lemon juice, and topped with Cola. A drink connosuoir once labeled this the best monkey at a typewriter concoction ever mixed, and I agree. A caveat: it is too sweet for some tastes, and usually one of the pricier drinks on a basic bar menu, but try them in these curbside establishments. Drink a couple of these and you’ll be up to no good in no time.
Debauchery time. We polished them off and headed into an establishment known as Crazy House.
And I’ll stop there for censoring purposes.

Con Amor,

Cohiba

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