Dear Diary:
Many years ago some of my former law school classmates and I, all of whom had recently been admitted to the New York bar, met for dinner at the now closed Gasner’s Restaurant near City Hall.
When the time came for dessert, in order to impress my companions of how sophisticated I had become (after all, I was now an attorney at law!), I quite pretentiously ordered a demitasse. The waiter shortly returned and to my chagrin served me a regular cup of coffee.
I promptly protested and, in the best stentorian voice that I could muster, told the waiter that I had ordered a demitasse.
Without missing a beat, and to the amusement of all, the waiter responded, “Drink half.â€
Somewhat abashed, I duly complied and my demitasse days were over. For good.
Read all recent entries and our updated submissions guidelines. Reach us via email diary@nytimes.com or follow @NYTMetro on Twitter using the hashtag #MetDiary.
