Beer Soup
I Hate Meat and I Want to Attend Your Sausage Festival for Free
Posted March 12, 2010 3 Comments | Post a Comment
We’re between World Beer Festivals, and this is my chance to reflect on the calls that arrived before our Columbia event in January and that will resume before our Raleigh fest in April. They always do.
The phone rings. An earnest person makes a request. I fantasize absurd parallel requests. I suppress the smart-ass reply and deliver diplomatic answers.
Ring. “My friend wants me to come to your festival, but I can’t stand beer. Can I get in for free?”
(Absurd parallel: “My friend wants me to come to the Monet opening, but I hate the Impressionists. Can I get in for free?”)
No, it’s a beer festival. Don’t you find your request slightly insulting?
Ring. “My wife is pregnant, so she can’t drink. Can she come to the beer festival for free? She won’t drink anything.)
(Absurd parallel: “My wife has lost her sense of depth perception, so she can’t appreciate 3-D movies. Can she get into ‘Avatar’ for free? She won’t enjoy anything.”)
Will she be a virtual attendee, or does she plan to occupy physical space at the event?
Ring. “My buddies and I are coming to the beer festival. One guy we know doesn’t like alcohol, so he won’t drink. He’ll just drive us home. Can he get in for free?”
(Absurd parallel: “My buddies and I are going to a strip club. One guy we know doesn’t like pornography, so he won’t look. He’ll just stop us getting lap dances. Can he get in for free?”)
That’s great. He can meet you outside afterwards.
Let’s be blunt: a beer festival is an event meant for people who like beer. People who attend beer festivals are supposed to be adults who don’t need paid sitters to hold their hands, deliver them from temptation and take responsibility for their behavior. I’m just sayin’…
Next blog: the return of the nice Julie.
Very funny! I like mean Julie!
So, not only are they not partaking in the whole reason for being there, but they’ll eventually be surrounded by drunk friends. Awesome.
Eating, loving, singing and digesting are, in actuality, the four acts of the mirthful opera known as freshness, and they pass like bubbles of a grit of champagne. Whoever lets them break without having enjoyed them is a entire fool.