... I stopped into Loft 610 in Plano for a cocktail and several surreal experiences. Didn't expect to find myself dancing (to a Michael Jackson-heavy mix, natch. R.I.P.) with a group of strangers after a few sips. But a highly freckled Floridian named Cricket (I kid you not) saw me sitting alone, grabbed my arm and led me to the dance floor. Once I got back to my seat to text the friend who was supposed to meet me there, Cricket hopped back over to me and whispered, "honey, the guy behind you!" I took a peek to find a rather handsome, but way-older gent sipping on some (fill in the blank with a manly liquor) on the rocks. Equally needled to death by Cricket, he introduced himself as Uba. Who knew businessman types had club names?
I shook his hand and nervously returned to nursing my cocktail, which was thankfully potent. The Chad (above), as the blue curacao-colored martini is called, had enough of a fresh lime pucker to make you shiver, but enough of a splash of simple syrup to keep you coming back for more. And come back I will -- by 11:30, Loft 610 was hopping, led, of course, by Cricket dominating the dance floor. Perhaps she'll hop into my life on my next visit ...
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