(My whole family is eating dinner at a nice restaurant on our trip to Alaska. My little cousin has, as usual, insisted on sitting next to me while her parents are on the other end of the table.)
Me: “I’d like a virgin mojito, please.”
Waiter: “A mojito? Very good. Which tab will that be on?”
Cousin: “I’ll get it! I’m paying!”
(She waves around her room key-card and tries to hand it to the waiter, but my dad waves him over and adds his own drink to our tab.)
Waiter: “Here you go.”
(I taste it, and it’s a bit more citrus-heavy than the way I make them at home.)
Cousin: “Can I have a sip?”
Me: “No, you wouldn’t like it.”
Cousin: “But I paid for it! I can have a drink because I paid for it!”
Me: “No, my dad paid for it. You can get one of your own.”
Cousin: “But I need to! I paid for it! MOMMY SAYS I CAN HAVE SOME!”
(I look over, and her mother isn’t even in the room.)
Me: “You really want some?”
Cousin: “Finally! I paid for it; I can have as much as I want!”
Me: “Just a sip, to see if you like it.”
(She takes a sip and makes a disgusted face, and wordlessly hands it back to me.)
Me: “I told you, you wouldn’t like it.”
(Later, I realized that why it tasted strong was that it might not have been ‘virgin’!)