It’s a brisk Friday night, and our bubble buddies are masked and bundled, with personal bottles of hand sanitizer in tow, hyperconscious of distance and craving conviviality.
In the city that spawned the world’s first Total Abstinence Society in 1815, we’re not sure what to expect from takeout cocktails. Secret knocks on speakeasy doors? Hip flasks slipped into pockets? Sippy cups in brown paper bags? Straws?