OK, so my mind often makes leaps, from one thought to another, until I’m so engrossed in the mental meandering and I often forget where I started. This happened to me the other day at Marlow’s Tavern in Midtown Atlanta when Willie, Brit and I decided that we had put in a long morning of good, hard work and we needed a nice lunch. Marlow’s is just around the corner from the office. Read how I started off in Midtown Atlanta and how I ended up in 1950s Los Angles in this restaurant review for the travel web site UpTake.com:
Marlow’s Tavern, which features a stylish decor, deep booths and several black-and-white photographs competing for room on the walls with big-screen televisions, has a logo of a big, typewritten capital “M.” Let the free-association begin! Typewriter = Book; novel. Marlow = Philip Marlow; private eye. Also, Marlow = Raymond Chandler; author; creator of Philip Marlow. Marlow = Humphrey Bogart, among others, including Dick Powell and Elliott Gould (?!?). Chandler = “The Big Sleep,” “Farewell, My Lovely,” “The Lady in the Lake,” “The Long Goodbye.” Marlow’s drink of choice = . . . hmmm . . .
I had read all of Chandler’s novels during a dull summer between my junior and senior years of college. I’ve seen just about all the movie versions of his books. I like to think I know Chandler and Marlow pretty well. But this was gnawing at me. While Willie and Brit were studying the menu, I was tussling with what I thought was a very important question, to wit: what was Marlow’s drink of choice?
Yeah, I know, but it was bugging the mess out of me. It was either a Gimlet or a Gibson. I knew that much.
There is, eventually, a restaurant review here, I promise. Click here to read the whole thing.