On Mondays I post articles that originally appeared elsewhere, or work that has been gathering dust on my hard drive. A version of this piece was originally published in 2002 over at The Morning News. Thanks to Rosecrans Baldwin for the edits.

As a society, we’ve decided that flatulence doesn’t exist. If everyone followed basic etiquette guidelines, none of us would need to worry about passing gas in public. The thing to do if you have a digestive indiscretion is to pretend your intestines never tried to join the conversation.

So you see, etiquette is on your side. Perhaps you don’t care what an oyster fork looks like; you don’t own saltcellars; you don’t rise from the table when your girlfriend leaves to powder her nose. Regardless, one day you’ll fart in public. And when you do, it’s comforting to know there’s a game plan.

Good etiquette is effective even in small doses. Your manners, like most acquired skills, needn’t be impeccable to produce appreciative murmurs, only marginally better than the next guy’s. Fortunately for you, the next guy is the one over there, picking his teeth with a credit card.

For now, let’s forget about finger bowls and concentrate on kindness. What follows is my four-step system for becoming a more considerate person.

Step 1: Avoid giving inadvertent offense

Gossiping isn’t rude in itself, just tricky. In private, you can break out genealogical charts to describe particularly juicy entanglements. ‘His father remarried his mother’s half-sister, who then had an affair with him.’ But in a public place, you may not mention names. Let me show you why. See that man sitting behind you? He’s married to the woman whose adultery you’ve been discussing, and he seems to be crying. However, you still have to finish your burger. So that’s uncomfortable.

It’s no one’s business whether your wife’s hair is its natural color or whether your father just became eligible for the senior citizen discount. It’s certainly not your business to inform outsiders. There’s so little intrigue anymore. If you insist on spoiling someone else’s secret, at least make it worthwhile. Wait until you’re alone with your confidant, lean in, lower your voice, and whisper, ‘You know Tiffany’s breasts weren’t always quite so…outstanding.’

One doesn’t mention that overweight people could stand to lose a few pounds, nor does one tell underweight friends that they look sickly. Those who make a practice of this will eventually meet a young woman who has a glandular condition or has just undergone chemotherapy.

Don’t give potentially insulting gifts to others. These include items that you want them to have — cleaning products for your messy housemate, cookbooks for your take-out-ordering husband, or self-help books stating that your smart friend is making stupid choices. Topping the list of rude gifts are live animals, which the recipient must then care for, or worse, worry over after flushing the goldfish in hopes it might reach a nearby lake.

If you wonder whether you should go to a funeral, you should. One attends funerals not only to show respect for the departed, but also to support those who are mourning. Skipping them because you’re squeamish is childish. Rest assured that friends who are in no emotional state to feel generous about your ‘sensitivity’ will remember your absence.

You shouldn’t always attend weddings, however. You may have received an invitation, but if you have reason to believe that your inclusion on the guest list caused a fight between the bride and the groom (say you slept with one of them recently), you should graciously decline.

Step 2: Stop imposing on others

Always respond to invitations promptly so the host can get a headcount. Once you’ve accepted an invitation, the only reasonable excuses for reneging are communicable illness or an unexpected event that takes obvious precedence. (Elopements or funerals count, opportunities to go on dates or to complete delayed work projects don’t.)

On airplanes, the people with books or headphones are using them to avoid interaction. Please don’t try to draw these people into conversation by using their social shields as conversational bait for your opening line. ‘Hey, great book!’ or ‘What are you listening to?’ can only be met with a tight-lipped smile.

Step 3: Learn tricks of the trade

When staying as a guest in a friend’s home, it’s polite to bring a host gift. Upon leaving, strip the bed linens and remake the bed with the coverlet so the room doesn’t look messy while sheets are being laundered. If you wait longer than two weeks to write a thank you note after your visit, etiquette demands that you pretend to have been held up in a full body cast in a hospital with no pens.

When you see someone with spinach in his or her teeth, an open fly, toilet paper on the shoe, or a visible slip, it’s smart to discreetly inform this person of the problem, because all of these situations can be remedied. For less fixable problems (a stain, a rip), pretend not to have noticed.

When you must pass people sitting in rows, turn your body away from them and your head toward them. This helps you avoid the awkwardness of being face-to-face with a stranger in close quarters, but allows the seated party to make eye contact with your face instead of your bum.

The easiest and most considerate way to give your seat to someone who seems to need it more is to vacate it as you see the person approaching, walk a few steps away, and gaze absently into the air.

Step 4: Be better than the next guy

There are certain indiscretions that have become so commonplace that hardly anyone notices anymore. If you can manage to be polite where most people are careless, you’ll reap lots of goodwill with very little effort.

When you borrow things—books, small sums of money, coats—return them without being asked. Forgoing this courtesy leaves your friends in the ludicrous, but justifiable, position of fuming over a $2 debt or the loss of their first-edition copy of The Hipster Handbook.

Unsolicited advice on hairstyles, TV habits, cigarette addiction, or relationships is rude. These people already know that their stylist got carried away with the buzz clipper, that they should get out more, that smoking is killing them, and that their girlfriend—though pretty—isn’t as bright as she could be.

Don’t ignore companions in favor of answering your cell phone. If you must take a call, excuse yourself, leave the room, and make it snappy. Better yet, don’t plan social events on evenings when you’re expecting important phone calls.

It’s not polite to push your beliefs on others unless you’re holding a picket sign large enough to give fair warning that they should avoid you. In this spirit, one doesn’t properly discuss the population explosion at the mention of a friend’s pregnancy, and one doesn’t inform a lunch partner of ‘exactly how much fat is in that’ or the process by which the meat came to be on his or her plate.

Finally, one of the rudest things a person can do is to call someone else rude. Therefore, no matter how dramatic your faux pas, anyone who points it out is the real jerk.

In an effort to gather all my writing in one place, every Monday I post articles that originally appeared elsewhere, or work that has been gathering dust on my hard drive. This piece was originally titled “The Non-Expert: Threesomes” and was published in 2003 over at The Morning News. The Non-Expert series answers questions posed by Morning News readers. Thanks to Rosecrans Baldwin, who edited this piece.

Question: What would it take for you to have a three-way with me?

Answer: First, allow me a moment to admire your subtlety. You are a man who knows how to woo a woman with sweet nothings, ply her with charm. The Don-Juan quality of your, ‘What would it take?’ really gets a girl purring.

I wish I could give you a one-size-fits-all answer, but this is a question that every woman must answer for herself. Therefore, you should be asking a girl who is going at it with some other chick when you open the bathroom door at a party.

Instead, you’re asking me.

Fortunately for you, I’m rather drunk. (Threesome Criteria Numero Uno? Check). In this fictional advice-column world, I’m not yet 25 (Criteria 2), and find myself conveniently single (Criteria 3). What’s more, your particularly horizontal shoulders and ready smile help you meet Criteria 4: You are white-hot.

Also, you look kind of familiar. I think you were in my second-grade class. Yeah! I remember you. Weren’t you the shy one who wore yellow galoshes rain or shine? How funny! You’re so…non-threatening (Criteria 5). And my, how you’ve grown.

Do you still live in my hometown? Goodness, no. You’ve been in China teaching English since college. How lovely. So it would seem we have few, if any, common acquaintances (Criteria 6).

Let us test this theory with a few minutes of banter about where you went to college, where you moved after school, and so on. I name the two people I know who attended the university you attended. You shrug your shoulders winningly and admit there were 30,000 students there at the time. We laugh and order another round of martinis.

But what are you doing in town? Just stopping in. In fact, you’re headed back tomorrow morning, pretty early. It is quite likely that our paths will never cross again (Criteria 7). That’s a crying shame.

You rest your hand on my knee as you leave a tip on the bar. Your skin feels like you must be plugged in somewhere (Criteria 8). Your ring finger is band-free (Criteria 9).

Have I mentioned that you are not an unattractive young man? And just my type. Smart, kind, confident, likes to travel, abs like the wind-blown surface of a calm summer lake.

I’m pondering the dollar-to-yuan exchange rate and imagining romantic walks along the Great Wall when you ask if I have a couple bucks to cover the drink you just bought me. Um…sure. Later, you begin an entirely too-detailed conversation about the track trophies you won in high school.

All right. So China’s out. You aren’t necessarily boyfriend material (Criteria 10). But have I mentioned that you are not an unattractive young man? Yes, I suppose I have. And I certainly have some time on my hands this evening, so how could it hurt to pass that time with you?

I’m buzzed, imprudently young, and pleased by the way you lean forward when you whisper to me. What’s that? What would it take to…what?

Ohhhhhhh.

Ha! Are you serious? You are.

Well. That’s not an entirely uninteresting question. Hell, haven’t I always wondered anyway? I mean, hasn’t everyone?

So how are your papers? In order? Disease-free, psychosis-free (Criteria 11)? Excellent. Do you have condoms on you? You don’t. All right, you make a drug-store run (Criteria 12), and I’m in.

While you’re gone, I’ll go find the other guy.

In an effort to gather all my writing in one place, every Monday I’ll be posting articles that originally appeared elsewhere or work that has been gathering dust on my hard drive. The Case for Cocktails was published in 2002 over at The Morning News, which you should read regularly because it is staffed by smart people who make good things. (Thanks to Rosecrans Baldwin, who edited this piece.)

The Case for Cocktails

First there was Watergate, then the nuclear family faded, cigars were extinguished, and now interest in cigarettes is waning. Martinis can only be next. Soon, mixed drinks will be fond recollection, a fable shared with an inattentive child.

If we don’t cultivate the demand for complex drinks—cocktails that require a commitment to acquiring certain tastes—we must prepare to relinquish gambling, prostitution, and perhaps even sex.

When we cast aside even our vices, how can we hope to preserve the very fiber of our society? Without morals, we are still a decadent and exuberant people. Without vices, we are troglogdytic hunches, scraping at the earth and mewling at the sky. For the good of mankind, we must stop ordering stupid drinks.

Drinking Well

Any moron can order a beer; a monkey can yank at the tap. Now we have hideous cocktail hybrids, the unspeakable pre-mixed drinks that come in trite, peppy bottles. If you still find bright, shiny objects distracting, by all means, twist the top off of a Smirnoff Ice, perhaps a Tequiza. Go drink it over there.

If you’re feeling arid, and you’d like to start drinking well, begin by expanding your cocktail lexicon. After a few months of practice, you’ll develop a repertoire of five or six appealing drinks to order with studied carelessness. The key here is to find a drink that is obscure enough to confuse fellow quaffers, but not so obscure that the bartender has to ask what’s in it.

Your Options

Not all cocktails are refined, and most of them aren’t gender neutral. Women can drink nearly anything they like; men are not so fortunate. There are a few notable drinks, however, that anyone can order without shame:

Gimlet or Gibson
Ingredients: Respectively, a dry Martini with lime juice, or a Martini with cocktail onions instead of olives
What it says: I’ve had enough Martinis to preserve my remains for science. Pimentos get on my nerves.
Ideal setting: Martini bar

Rusty Nail
Ingredients: Scotch, Drambuie
What it says: I’m wearing wingtips just like my dad’s. I like a little scotch with my scotch.
Ideal setting: After an expensive dinner.

Sidecar
Ingredients: Cognac, Grand Marnier, lemon juice
What it says: I learned to sail when I was six.
Ideal setting: Country club

Greyhound
Ingredients: Vodka and grapefruit juice (A salted rim makes it a Salty Dog.)
What it says: Having tried everything else, this is the only thing I drink. I have the number of a good tailor in my wallet.
Ideal setting: Over brunch

Negroni
Ingredients: Equal parts gin, Campari, sweet vermouth
What it says: I’m earning my MBA.
Ideal setting: Happy hour

Hot Toddy
Ingredients: Brandy, hot tea, sugar, a twist of lemon
What it says: I’m cold.
Ideal setting: Irish or English pub, ski lodge

Old-Fashioned
Ingredients: Whiskey, sugar, bitters, soda
What it says: My grandpa drinks this. My grandpa is a helluva guy.
Ideal setting: Any bar that’s been open more than 25 years.

Manhattan
Ingredients: Bourbon, sweet vermouth, dash of bitters, and a cherry
What it says: What can I order that will get me soused, but will still have a cherry in it?
Ideal setting: Small bar with close friends who live a few doors down

Some of the more ubiquitous standards include Gin and Tonic, Screwdrivers, and Irish Coffee. Those who can’t bear to part with their evening beer should consider ordering a Boilermaker or Black and Tan. Women have even more options: White Russian, Kir or Kir Royal, Cosmopolitan, Margarita, Tequila Sunrise, and so on.

For obvious reasons, please refrain from ordering Wine Spritzers, Melon Balls, or Midori Sours. Also avoid drinks with names that reference copulation—Sex on the Beach, Screaming Orgasm, Slow Comfortable Screw—unless you’re wearing an unwieldy veil on a bachelorette bar crawl.

Public Drinking

Now that you know what to order, learn to drink slowly. A well-mixed drink is like a rich dessert, it’s impolite to shovel sweets into one’s mouth and lick the plate. Sipping will help you aim for cheerful and stop short of drenched.

Have a few taste tests to figure out what kind of liquor you like, then request it when you go out. This will make your drinks slightly more expensive, and also more delicious. If you’re ordering a gin and tonic, make it a Bombay and tonic, a shot of bourbon becomes a ‘Makers Mark, neat.’ Bam, you’re a worldly sonofabitch.

Drinking at Home

Keep your bar stocked. There are few things so satisfying as inviting a date up for a nightcap and mixing the drink of his or her choice. There are several references that detail what you’ll need. Start with the ingredients for your three favorite cocktails and build from there.

Use the best ingredients you can afford. Never subject a guest to ‘diet’ tonic water. Mix some fresh limejuice and sugar instead of buying prefab sours. It’s impressive, and it tastes much better. The same is true of all freshly squeezed juices, they make superior drinks. Also, keep lemons and limes around. They’re inexpensive and will keep for weeks in your refrigerator. You can make a lemon or lime twist by slicing off a small section of the peel, removing the membrane, and twisting it until it curls like a corkscrew.

Nearly every type of drink has a corresponding glass—brandy snifters for drinks that are meant to warm in the hand, daiquiri glasses for blended drinks, and so on. A fairly complete collection of glasses would include: old fashioned (or lowball), double old fashioned, highball, Collins, pilsner, martini, champagne flute or saucer, snifter, Irish coffee, shot glass, and red and white wine glasses. If that sounds insane—and it should if you don’t have several empty cabinets—start with a set of lowballs, large highballs, globed red wine glasses, and taller white wine glasses. You can serve rocks drinks in the lowballs, Collins in the highballs, brandy in the globed glasses, and (under duress) martinis in the white wine glasses.

Bar Conduct

Now that you understand the foundations of drinking well, a few points of etiquette:

• If you want a rum and coke, don’t order a Cuba Libre. In certain circumstances, you can request a Cape Codder instead of a vodka cranberry, but know your audience.
• Tip about a dollar a drink. It’s easy to calculate when you’re well irrigated, and a happy bartender is a generous bartender.
• Don’t drink until all of your friends have been served. Offer up a quaint ‘cheers,’ and click glasses.
• Remember where you are. Don’t order a sidecar in a sports bar. Don’t order a Bloody Mary at an Irish pub on St. Patrick’s Day, or a Mojito from a college bar on Saturday night.
• If you spill someone’s drink, buy them a new one. This promotes goodwill and saves you from regular emergency trips to your dentist.
• If you’re feeling illuminated, stop ordering anything in a martini glass. You will slosh most of it on whoever is next to you.
• If someone else buys the first round, for the love of all that is holy, the next round is on you. If you buy the first round, may God’s hand be upon you.

Sorry about that, guys. I had some problems with my hosting company, but everything is fine now. While I was away, maybe you saw my article Don’t Be Rude: Part III, Socializing at The Morning News. If you didn’t, go see now.

I removed three pairs of boxer briefs from my purse this morning. The bachelorette went well. It is decidedly easier than I ever imagined to find a man who will remove his underwear on a public street. Many thanks to Rich, Jed, and John, all of whom gave selflessly for the cause. Happy wedding, Ali.

SUGAR ON TOP

Another article up at The Morning News, please go and read it. Don’t Be Rude: Part II, Relationships.