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Shit, my wife likes rusty nails. Rusty nails got me through August. I have a hierarchy. I'll order a rusty nail to see if they know what it is. Then I'll order a Manhattan to see if they know what it is. Then I'll ask them what bourbons they have. Then I'll ask them what American whiskeys they have that aren't Jack Daniels. This way, I set my expectations properly for the evening ahead. It's truly depressing how often I get to (4), especially considering that in LA, they still charge you $10 a shot for Jim Beam once they figure out that it's whiskey. This has a lot to do with why I never go out in LA.