With one eye on the clock that would free me from the fake homey Barn walls of the Bucket watching the tick tick tick of each excruciating moment crawl by on the computer screen when I noticed out of the corner of my eye the MOD amble up to the cash stand.
He assumed a comfortable slouch against the counter and began to talk. Of what, I can not remember but somehow the conversation wandered to bars, drinking at bars, the cost of drinking at bars, the switch from hard liquor to beer due to the cost involved of drinking at bars, drinking at bars in Italy. Drinking with Rugby players from Scotland at bars in Italy.
I so wanted to tell him about drinking with Irish Soccer players at an Airport bar in Dublin, but I practiced restraint, if only to myself. I have lost my need to one up people since - oh, I don't know. It's part of growing older and part of loosing your mind.
It did liberate some memories from the Black & Tan days.
He claimed to have been a bar tender and was making a good argument about Coors beer being one of the best/better domestic beers. I managed to get a word in and I interjected that Joe and I liked local micro breweries.
He made a face. "You gotta be careful at those places" he stated shaking his head.
Then I thought about how much I loved Mad Anthony in Ft Wayne, and the New Albanian in New Albany, Bluegrass Brewing Company in Lou, Blackhorse Brewery in C-Ville, the Old Varsity Blue in Lex (I think it was called something else, my "Assistant" from the Beverage company and I met there frequently), and on and on and on.
How boring to drink only Coors. Like my BIL who turned up his nose at the growler of Raspberry Wheat from Mad Anthony we lovingly brought home for their consumption. Oh well, Joe and I cut it with the BIL's Bud Lite, as it is meant to be devoured, since we did not have a growler of the blonde lager. The bomb. I do not think they refer to it as such, but it is the best in beer.
Which brings me to the Black and Tan.
The MOD began to tell me how to make a Black and Tan! If I had brought it up wouldn't you think I knew what it was all about?
Do people love to hear themselves talk?
After all, I drank enough of them to know they are beyond all descriptions other than delicious. And if you drink more than two, be prepared to call a cab, or in my case, walk the long mile home. Unfortunately you had to walk the even longer mile back in the morning to reclaim your car.
All in all, I checked out 15 minutes after the hour. An enjoyable 15 minutes of conversation. I found out he is a bland expounder and he found out I am an awesome listener and a lover of fruity beers.