Each bitter sip was a smile or a kind word said to... whomever.
The vibrant beer translated its energy into my own behavior, similar in spike, and heaped with love-like words as warm as my belly grew, each ready to be loose on any coincidental person before me.
I remember friends for the day, and remember sharing consoled, moot feats with these people that I was already at a loss for words to, upon the sober tomorrow. (The now.) The only thing we had in common? We were now free to roam and share and pick at the brain lint built up from our static workdays, assisted by bitter drink and liberated air. We were chemically emptying the responsibility tank, readying for another 'Monday to Friday'.
Some say it's unnatural for man to be chained by a suit and tie, and some think we should be spearing saber-tooth tigers, winning the absolution of love and prize from a 'life and death' society. But to me, an evening like this among strangers, is this sub-conscious world communicating justifiably. We all know we act differently when backed into a corner, but who really survives these 'battle fields' if blood shed is the only death? To me, death occurs often... and it's when you catch yourself becoming a person you'd never want to become. Death is a number of 'Old Yous', give the once-over, then birthed into a better frame. I may not have slain a bear with my bare hands, but this hang-over reflects a number of shed skins... if only I could remember them. (Maybe, it's best that I don't...)
The Once-Over is 5.8% IPA dry hopped with Cascade, Chinook and Wild Turkey.
Words by Dave Gaudett.