Delicious Bar Snacks Entice Two Women to Risk Souls and Wallets

Last night was a special night.

My friend Christina has invited me to be her plus one at an exclusive blogger event. We don our high heels and head to the Beverly Wilshire Hotel to check out magician Ivan Modei's Intimate Illusions show. With fifteen minutes to spare before the show, we hurry over to Sidebar, one of the hotel's cocktail lounges. Christina and I order two drinks, a vodka and cranberry and a dirty gin martini, respectively. The friendly barback plops down an array of bar snacks; honey-roasted almonds, wasabi peas, kettle chips, and olives marinated with fennel. Delicious! We crush them. He even gives us water (with lemon) before we ask. The first round is on me. The show is about to start so I quickly calculate the tip and scribble down the total without paying attention.

After Ivan's amazing performance, we poke around the hotel and decide that, indeed, we do need another cocktail. Why not? Round two: two lemon drops and more bar snacks. We have time to sit and relax, observe the scene, sway in our bar stools to some Top 40. Round two is on Christina. The check comes, she hands over her card, and the realization sets in.  We gather my receipts for comparison, recheck the itemized receipt.  Why, yes, those were $17 lemon drops.  Suddenly, it's all clear.  Everything is amplified.  The Dior and false eyelashes, the real-life Housewives of Beverly Hills arguing in the bathroom, the attentive staff, the wannabe Entourage crew wearing sunglasses in the corner, the plastic surgery, the debutantes (yes, really) in the ballroom, the divine bar snacks. Noooooooo! What are we doing here? We rush to the valet stand, wait uncomfortably behind the dozen or so uniformed valets, and let out a sigh (or a giggle?) of relief as we speed off with our souls still intact.  Barely.