For the life of me, I don’t remember where I first read about Stingers, but it was over a decade ago…in a book (the Internet didn’t exist when I started reading). The story I remember involved a train station and a row of Stinger cocktails on top of a bar. The premise was that businessmen would pick one up and pour it back before hopping on the train home. The result was fresh breath since presumably the creme de menthe would mask the old three Martini lunch.
While I wouldn’t normally order a Stinger at a bar to start the night, the ritual of taking one for the benefit of one’s breath seems hard to refute. So it was only a matter of time before our club would be offering departing members & guests a Stinger before they catch their train. In writing this post, I spent the requisite 5 minutes on the Google trying to find any reference to a Stinger at train stations, but unfortunately, I couldn’t find anything. And if it’s not on the Internet, it must not be true.