I don't know if it was Salty’s cocktail waitress's cheerleader voice or the fact that she called me "sir" three times prior to actually delivering my drink, but I launched into cranky mode.



At what point do you become a "sir"?



Yes, I was significantly older than the neophyte waitress, but when you go to a bar, the last thing you want to be reminded of is that you are not 21 anymore.



I'd dropped by Salty’s at Redondo Beach — an old favorite, comfortable waterfront joint that’s hard as hell to get to — at 6:30 p.m. on a Friday looking for a roll in the sand as they say. The Jimmy Buffet-loving weekend crowd had yet to show up for their pop guitarist fix in the lounge (8:30 p.m. Thursday-Saturday), and I felt like the barroom version of the old man who stops by for the blue-plate special. The lounge was surprisingly young.



Cocktail!  My choice — the Wild Berry Sling ($7.99), made with Beefeater Gin, blackberry brandy, blackberries, orange juice, lemonade, and cranberry — was a delicious pounder-size drink that gave me quick relief from the waitress's voice and my observable aging. Suggestion for waiters and waitresses: Don't call a man who is younger than 60 years old "sir" prior to getting him a drink. After a drink, maybe. And after four, you can call me Grandpa.



[Salty’s Seafood Grill at Redondo Beach, 28201 Redondo Beach Dr. S., Des Moines, 253.946.0636]