As children, my sister and I shared a hatred of clowns. Or perhaps, what we felt is better described as fear, but isn’t that the root of all hatred stems? It didn’t help when movies like Poltergeist and It debuted, only serving to solidify terror. So, when I recently heard a story on National Public Radio about hospital clowns, I couldn’t imagine anything more horrific. As it turns out, not all children feel the way my sister and I did and I learned these medical clowns helped heal by choosing to share in their young patients’ pain, rather than attempting to change it. Through listening and play, medical clowns helped sick children to build trust in an environment and a world that had, until that point, felt unsafe.

We’ve all felt unsafe at one time or another. I found it easiest to take shelter among strangers at a bar. There’s something comforting about no one knowing you — there are no expectations. Even without the social lubrication, being among strangers was a way of losing myself, but what I loved about doing so with a whiskey in hand was how that combination warmed my stomach and cooled my nerves. I found it easier to be vulnerable in front of strangers than with people I knew and loved. I didn’t have to be high-achieving. I didn’t have to dress professionally or wear makeup. I could just be an easy-to-talk-to girl at the bar, and that, to me, was relaxing.

Anonymity is hard to come by in Hawaii, so these days I have to quench that thirst by traveling. What I love about a bar is that but no matter where I am, if I really wanted to be left alone, all I would have to do is stay home. Though we may occasionally crave anonymity, we don’t really want to be alone — at least not indefinitely. Human beings are social creatures; we need interaction and connection to survive. People who belly up to the bar are looking to engage, even if they don’t quite know how.

One of my favorite things about bartending is being for others exactly what other bartenders were for me — a medical clown. By simply listening and playing along, bartenders allowed me to be flirty or funny, scared or sad. At the bar, where nobody knew my name, I found what most folks were searching for in volatile times — acceptance.

There’s a line from my favorite TV comedy series, Schitt’s Creek, where David Rose says, “I like the wine, and not the label. Does that make sense?” Not only did it speak to my industry, but to everything it has taught me about how hospitality equals acceptance and inclusion.

Daniel Levy, who plays David Rose on the show, put it best: “When someone who has opposing views sits down in front of their TV, we’re not teaching them a lesson. We’re showing them what life could be like … we all just need a safe space to learn at the end of the day.”

Thank you, to all my bartenders, in Hawaii and around the world, for creating that safe space for me.

In honor of Schitt’s Creek’s David Rose (who drinks both red and white wine — wink-wink!) here’s a little rosé cocktail that sparkles almost as much as David does!

Rose apothecary

Ingredients:
• 1 ounce Suntory Roku Gin
• 0.5 ounce fresh-pressed lemon juice
• 0.5 ounce Simple Syrup
(1 part sugar:
1 part H2O)
• 3 ounces G.H. Mumm Grand Cordon Rosé Champagne

Directions:
Shake Suntory Roku Gin, lemon juice and simple syrup over ice. Fine strain over into Champagne flute. Top with G.H. Mumm Grand Cordon Rosé Champagne. Garnish with edible rose.