As I made my way to watch some music at Arlene’s Grocery in the Lower East Side, I thought about what new drink I could try. I had visions of a blog post entitled ‘…drank a Manhattan in Manhattan’.

But as it turns out, there’s not really that sort of selection in the basement of Arlene’s Grocery. The barman grunted that my choices were the bottles lining the bar, so I scoured the shadows for something I’d never had before. I picked one I guessed was a Stolichnaya raspberry vodka and he poured me a full, neat glass.

Despite my friends complaining that it tasted of bubblegum, I was content. Flavoured vodka might be a teenager’s tipple, but I’ll definitely be having it again. It was like drinking boiled sweets, which obviously made it much easier to knock back – and it quickly kicked in.

So while I enjoyed an inventive, fast-moving set from Pocket Hercules, my new drink numbed the pain of watching the second band – The Wives – as they actually physically fought on stage. Perhaps it was the vodka or maybe it was my loathing of all the ego up there, but I was soon yelling ‘HIT HIIIM’ as groupies tried in vain to split them up.

Then it was time to go home.