Ben and I went out for a night on the town yesterday. It was a hot date (without the kids) to a fancy restaurant.
We went to my friend's engagement / wedding celebration. She reserved a private room in an upscale restaurant downtown. We enjoyed thick steaks, delicious seafood, sinful desserts and engaging conversation. Ben even indulged in a glass of red wine.
As our evening progressed, I finished my beverage and waited for our server to refill my glass. He promptly brought me a small wine carafe filled with a caramel-coloured liquid. The server reached past my shoulder and deftly poured the liquid into my empty glass.
"Mmmm, what drink is that?" one of the guests at our table asked, thinking I had ordered something exotic. Most of the other party-goers were drinking wine or cocktails.
"Oh, um, well," I blushed, "It's ... iced tea."
Everyone at the table laughed.
At that moment I realized I wasn't in Kansas anymore. I suppose I should have know that such a quality establishment would serve iced tea of only the finest vintage.