Disgressed

Yesterday I finally saw someone actually drinking one of those small cans of gin and tonic on the train.

A while back, someone decided that small cans of gin and tonic (there are vodka, whisky and I think tequila equivalents too, but I believe it’s the G&T that leads the way) would be just the thing to sell to commuters. You can see the reasoning. Long tough day at the office, grab your first G&T at the station and your relaxing evening starts early. It does seem to me that there are a number of flaws in the concept though.

First, it’s not going to taste right, is it? A G&T is not particularly difficult to synthesise, but of course they’re bound to use horrid fake lemon flavour, and put unwanted chemicals in. You won’t be able to get it the strength you prefer, and the gentle clink of ice cubes is out of the question when you’re swigging from the tiny hole of a miniature can.

Second, the ambience. If we were all sitting in large first-class seats, preferably with no-one opposite, we might be able to kid ourselves that this was similar to relaxing at home. But in fact, if you get a seat at all, it’s a dirty uncomfortable one with some annoying woman’s elbow stuck in your ribs and a man with dermatitis who bites his nails voraciously through the journey sitting opposite. More likely you’re standing in an uncomfortable position and using one hand to hang on, while some git with a phone shouts in your face about his holiday in Estonia. The thought of trying to pull out your mini-can and neck some early alcohol in such a setting is merely sordid and depressing.

It must work, though: because every time I go in M&S their shelves have been almost cleared of G&Tettes (not so much the tequila). But if everybody’s buying them, why is it I never see anyone drinking one? I’d begun to think they must be taking them home, until yesterday.

There he was: brown briefcase, fiddle with the locks, and instead of a file or a laptop, out comes the can. I think to carry this off at all, you’d have to have something to read, and have mastered the art of holding up the reading material one-handed while taking the occasional thoughtful sip from the canlette using the other. This chap had left himself unequipped, so he was left with the problem of where his eyes rested between glugs, and he looked rather uncomfortable. Instead of looking relaxed, he looked like some desperate soul still clinging to the hem of denial about his rapidly growing alcoholism.

I don’t know what the best manner to adopt in these circumstances would have been. Make eye contact with the passenger opposite, brandish the can in a jovial way, give a little ‘chin-chin’ gesture, smack the lips with satisfaction? Try to hide the can in a handkerchief? Look fixedly out of the window and pretend no-one else is there? Look stern and put the whole can away in one swift chug?

Don’t think I’ll be going for it, anyway.