The Yuppie Tour of Cleveland

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This weekend, a barrel of friends came to visit me for our annual Drunk Fest Reunion. Given that all are yuppies — two lawyers, a writer, an actress, a neuroscientist — I knew they would appreciate a more, um, enlightened tour of the town. So just in case you're planning to entertain some overeducated visitors soon, here's out itinerary. Feel free to cut and paste: Friday night: We began the evening at Johnny Mango World Cafe & Bar in Ohio City, because nothing says Cleveland like chorizo quesadillas and fruit drinks. All went well, until my friend tried to ask the bartender for a definition of "tostadito." Apparently, Spanish was not part of his training manual. From there, we moved on to La Cave du Vin in Coventry. This was an especially popular choice. Not only did my guests appreciate the underground wine bar's outstanding selection (they serve pate with the syrah!), the waiter didn't seem to mind when we broke a wine glass and then accidentally dumped a whole chunk of Havarti on the floor. Mmmm, mmm good. Saturday morning, around 1 p.m.: We returned to the scene of the crime, except this time we were next door, at the Inn on Coventry. There was a brief moment of panic when my friend Daniel realized that the Pan de Maiz special might only come with one poached egg. Luckily, he was mistaken, and brunch progressed smoothly. We spent the afternoon shopping the Banyan Tree boutique in Tremont, where we purchased approximately half the store. We returned home with a box of wine and some kind of sex trivia card game. After that things got a bit fuzzy... A few more sober hours later, we returned to Tremont for a feast at Parallax. We ordered so many spicy tuna rolls and braised scallops that afterward, the restaurant's wine expert offered me a gift certificate for bringing in so much business. I have never been so proud. Finally, we dragged our bloated bellies over to The Treehouse, which was packed despite the frozen tundra outside. We found a big table in back, and settled into the soothing strains of "Sweet Caroline" on the jukebox. As my friend Stephen extrapolated on the merits of single malt scotch, we warmed ourselves by the fire. A better end to our weekend adventure could not have been scripted by the makers of Merlot. -- Lisa Rab, Yuppie Correspondent

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