When I ordered a whisky drink, the bartender put whisky in a glass and gave it to me, leaving me free to drink it. This part I liked.
I'm not sure what my friend and I did to offend the waitress, but she acted like she caught us defecating in her mother's old Bible. Man, she did not like us. And I thought we were being, you know, normal customers. We didn't stab anyone or call anyone names or run screaming thorugh the bar Porky Pig-style with only t-shirts. But you'd think we had done all that and more by the way she dealt with us.
But yeah, the whisky tasted exactly like whisky, and the patio was groovy.