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Best Planter's Punch New York 2000 - Marion's Continental Restaurant and Lounge

It was muggy and sticky, and the muck smelled like pee. I had become a knight in search of the Holy Drink, the soles of my shoes worn down. Somewhere in this city somebody had to know how to mix and produce the orange-pink potion. I asked for the elixir in every bar possible, provoking the same barrage of questions again and again: A what? What nationality are you? Is that Hawaiian punch and rum? Can't you just have a martini or something? It began to rain. The last bar on my list, Marion's Continental Restaurant and Lounge, didn't look promising. I opened the door discouraged, enraged, hopeless. Planter's punch, please. With a lemon or with a lime? Ahh, ahh, ahh, music, music, the sky cracked open, the clouds disappeared, the moon shone, a blinding white light fell upon Tahi the bartender, goddess of planter's punch, and I prepared my taste buds for the soothing, refreshing, intoxicating pleasure of this "fruit juice."
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