The mood in their room at the Hotel Canterlot was a sober – and somber – affair.
The previous evening, Rarity’s parents and sister were at the pre-awards meet and greet in the ballroom. They were actually surprised to be called to the Canterlot Fashion Awards, since they knew next to nothing about these types of soirees. But they didn’t want to lose out on a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to witness the potential confirmation of her ascent into the elite leagues.
It was understandable that Rarity would caution them about their conduct… even if it had the effect of a prisoner-of-war camp. Alas, she – and they – correctly predicted that their true character would quickly come shining through.
Still on her bed, Sweetie Belle took another look at the dress she had worn. Now hanging on a chair at the corner of her bed, there were traces of stains remaining on the fabric. But at least it wasn’t running on the carpet anymore. The dry-cleaning bill would be ridiculous.
“I just knew we were going to run into trouble with the Canterlot crowd,” she began in a deliberately low voice, so as to not arouse her sister. “I thought that by staying close to the buffet and away from the floor proper I’d be able to avoid most of the mess. That’s why I didn’t get involved in the drinking episode.” Sliding off the bed, she let out another woeful sigh. “This is probably going to make the rounds of the Canterlot presses faster than Rainbow Dash can clear the sky.”
“And Prim Hemline,” Hondo chimed in, fixing his moustache. “Try makin’ nice with the tootin’ falutin’ champagne lot when you’ve hardly ever been out of the beer crowd. Strange as anypony thinks it is, I’d seen more than one champagne in my life, but I don’t remember how long ago it was. The way she answered me, I wonder if she’s ever seen a beer.”
“Well, I know I’ve seen both, and some Maretinis and Maregaritas, in my time,” Cookie added, tying her mane back. “I’d expect Fancy Pants or his Mrs. to act like you described that kid. But she’s an Earth pony living in Manehattan, just like Coco Pommel. Sure as anything I’d expect her to have seen and been in at least a few sports bars and gastropubs and the like.”
“And I’ve seen Fancy Pants in Ponyville a few times with some of his companions,” Sweetie Belle replied as she fixed her mane. “Can’t say the same of the royals, though. Not the way Rarity described the Grand Galloping Gala several years ago.”
“What else don’t we know about the Canterlot bunch, then?” Hondo asked.
“Probably more than anypony cares to admit. We’d have to be here more than two full days to be able to adjust properly. If it had been the other way around, it wouldn’t be reasonable to expect any different of them.”
“In that case, I say we go take in the sights and sounds of the city… ourselves,” Cookie proposed, now completely dressed. “Maybe get a few keepsakes of our time here, and some lunch. We are not going to leave Canterlot empty-hoofed. Any of us.”
Quietly the three of them headed out, just as Rarity had turned over in her bed.
In a mere ten minutes, they were on the main strip. They hadn’t said a word to each other in that time, instead simply observing the other herds and shops.
“Look at all these joints,” Hondo finally announced as they moved into Restaurant Row. “There’s something for practically everypony here.”
“Yeah,” Sweetie Belle piped up. “There was one that Rarity and Pinkie Pie were called to. They were dealing with a problematic restaurant critic. I also heard that the critic brought Celestia and Luna into the act to get back at them.”
“Whoa,” Cookie mused, observing the circular signs that hung precisely above the center of each of the entrance doors. “That’s low.”
“Low is right,” Hondo chimed in, adjusting the brim on his straw hat.
“Oh, here it is.” Sweetie Belle pointed at a particular sign. “It used to be called the Tasty Treat, but it proved to be a little confusing even to the locals. Now it’s a subtitle; it’s officially called Star of Whindia today.”
Cookie took a whiff. “Smells good, too. But it’s a little too early.”
“Then what about the Bake Stop?”
“Yeah, I smell it, too,” Hondo answered, pointing to a sign displaying a steaming hot roll on the opposite side of the street. “It’s over this way.”
Having snapped up one pastry apiece, their next stop was a series of souvenir shops just off Restaurant Row.
“Hey, Dad,” Sweetie Belle suddenly piped up. “I think you’ll want to see this.”
Hondo took a look at the shop his daughter was pointing to. Among the other souvenirs, the window display contained a series of imprinted glasses, mugs, and cups.
“Oh, yeah, I know these,” he mused. “The bars I used to work at had glasses like them. Beer, spirits, and shooters up the wazoo.”
“And isn’t this what those servers were carrying around last night?” Cookie asked, pointing a hoof at a tall skinny rounded glass with a long stem. “This one’s called a flute.”
Hondo glanced. “Aw, sheesh. Yeah, they were. I’ve seen a few types of beer served in those babies, usually the craft ones. The draft types are usually in cylinders. Maybe we should go inside and see about getting a few.”
Inside the shop, the three of them poked around and observed the various displays. For the next few minutes, they didn’t make a peep to each other or anypony else.
“Hey, this looks interesting,” Sweetie Belle finally piped up.
Hondo followed his daughter’s gaze to the display. There were several tumblers of different sizes bearing the Canterlot text in elegant cursive blue. Her eye was on a cylindrical glass with a relatively thin base, narrow and tall enough to rival a flute.
“A Coltins glass,” Hondo replied. “That’s above the highballs and around the Pollsners.”
“A little too dangerous for me, then,” Sweetie Belle said without hesitation. Her gaze promptly shifted to a set of shorter wider tumblers with an intricate bridgework design. “Maybe you’ll like these ones. Says they’re called Old Fashioned.”
It took only a moment’s reflection to sell her father on the idea. Engulfed in his magical aura, Hondo levitated a set off the shelf.
“Oh, look, some cocktail coupes, too.” Cookie was now directly facing a collection of squat conical stemware. “You can’t go wrong with a Maretini.”
“Yeah, I think I’ll take this one,” Sweetie Belle announced off to the side, levitating a box of lowballs – between the shooters and the rocks – off the display case.
Having tucked the shopping bags containing their purchases inside their saddlebags, the three continued their trot along the strip. None of them made a peep for the next few minutes, until Cookie stopped before a storefront with a lavender-tinted wall and door with a heart-shaped window, still on the strip.
“Wait a minute, isn’t this Canterlot Boutique?”
“Yeah, that’s the one,” Sweetie Belle answered. “I’ve been in here a few times. It’s run by Sassy Saddles; she’ll recognize me instantly. Rarity might have told you about her shop in Manehattan, called Rarity for You and run by Coco Pommel. You may also have seen her at the reception yesterday, chatting with Fancy Pants.”
Cookie blanched.
“Not right now, though,” Sweetie Belle continued, getting the hint clearly. “Might be out of our price range.”
“Well, I do see a few caps and hats here. Care to pick up one?”
They were in and out of the shop in mere minutes, each having picked up a hat emblazoned with the Canterlot reference in a contrasting tone. Cookie picked out a bright pink tennis visor; Hondo chose a dark green boonie; Sweetie Belle snapped up a purple bucket cap.
“Looks good,” Hondo marveled. “Anypony hungry?”
“Might as well,” Sweetie Belle replied.
They settled on a moderate-sized delicatessen a few blocks ahead. Not a super-specialized place like what they saw on Restaurant Row, but nor was it a heavy menu. In fact, it rivaled the menu they saw at the Bake Stop.
There was an awkward silence for the first few minutes, as if struggling with what they wanted to talk about in such a spot. Finally, having completed a bite of her club wrap, Sweetie Belle broke the silence.
“I never felt much like saying it directly to her… but I think I’m turning into Rarity. And not in a good way, either.”
Her parents perked up.
“Now, now, leave me go on,” she pressed, noting their stunned glances. “First time we showed up at Carousel Boutique, Rarity had a few questions about our breakfast. I noticed her expression when I came in with all that luggage, about the size Spike was carrying when we were setting out for the train.”
“Yes, she’s like that,” Cookie mused, having just finished a sip of cooler.
“And I also heard her say you needed to take cooking lessons. She says that’s where I got it from. If what I hear of everypony else’s descriptions of her bad habits are correct, I think I’ve inherited them all.”
“Well, I can’t say I’m surprised anymore,” Hondo finally answered, speaking for both himself and his wife. “Matter of fact, her behavior may have affected your habits more deeply than either of you thought.”
“And she isn’t the laughing stock she thinks she is,” Cookie added, finishing up her meal. “More than time enough for that once we’re back home. For now, though, there’s an award show we need to see and an award we need to see her win.”
Sweetie Belle nodded, finishing off her bottle of juice. This was going to be an interesting evening.
Author's Note
As “Forever Filly” and “On Your Marks” demonstrated oh-so-clearly, times have definitely changed in the Ponyverse. Sometimes those lessons have to be learned the hard and painful way. And sometimes, the “city mice” have to find their own Aesops.
