Zen and the perfect Mojito

Today at a hotel pool bar, I ordered a mojito. A mojito is a tasty blend of freshly crushed mint and lime, mixed with real sugar cane, rum and soda. As I watched the bartender mix my cocktail, I realized I was mesmerized by the hypnotic effect the violent shaking of the mixing glass had upon me. I felt as if I could physically taste the drink already. I couldn't stand it--it was pure pleasure watching the cocktail being prepared and torturous at the same time because I had to wait--seconds even!--to taste it. By the time the concoction was poured into the glass--my mouth had started to froth at the sides in anticipation.

Perhaps it was my excitement paired with a touch of impatience, but I had to dive right into the drink as soon as the bartender brought the drink to me. The ice had barely finished doing its first lap around the glass and I already had the straw to my lips within milliseconds. The mojito was like a drug I had to get coursing through my veins immediately. Do not pass go. Hell, don't even worry about my friends' drinks that needed to be delivered. Get mojito into self as quickly as possible.

And so I did. Just like that. Some went splashing down my arm in my carelessness to feed the need. I took one large, sloppy sip, tilted my head back and exhaled, letting out a perceptible "ahhhh." It was delicious. It tasted as good as it looked watching the bartender make it. I took another sip, much slower, longer, more deliberate. I closed my eyes to enjoy and allowed my tongue time to actually taste the refreshing mix of flavors. I breathed another long sigh. (Silently, this time because I got an odd look from the guy standing next to me the first time!)

I smiled and thought how something as simple as a deliciously cold drink on a brutally hot day at a hotel pool bar could make me feel so internally happy. Maybe my girls trip was not going to provide any sense of enlightenment but surely the zen of the perfect mojito could help me find inner peace through the enjoyment my beverage. Whatever it was--either the zen or the alcohol content--I was on vacation with the girls and I was feeling great. Girls' weekends rule.