The
horrors we have seen in the news every day over the past month are disheartening:
more shootings and racial unrest in the US; plane crashes in Mali and elsewhere;
Russian cross-border attacks on Ukraine; the grim aftermath of the downing of Malaysian Airlines
Flight 17; Israelis and Palestinians at each other’s throats again in Gaza, ad nauseam. August is supposed to be the
peak of the silly season! More than ever, world affairs are enough to drive a man to drink.
There is a collective snap and hiss of beers opening around the globe whenever CNN
is on the screen.
So, during a visit to Ottawa last month, I decided that if the world
is in flames, I’d prefer to douse them with suds imbibed in company of old friends.
One evening, still somewhat jetlagged and therefore pliable, I thoroughly enjoyed an evening at a local tavern with “G” and “M”,
of which details still remain rather fuzzy—but a pleasant fuzziness.
Then
two other compadres, “M” and “L”, informed me that the National Capital Craft Beer
Festival would be held during my stay…and
did I want to go? Since I do partake of the occasional social I forced myself
(only for old time’s sake, of course) to go. I mean, they had to drag me there, kicking and screaming.
As it turned out, the
weather was less than good, but the variety and plethora of beers made up for that.
30 craft brewers plying their wares...hmm. Plus, a crowd of Ottawans drinking…means “polite” trouble.
Being
responsible young-middle-aged pillars of society, we caroused just the right amount,
kept our wits about us, and avoided any interaction with our esteemed law enforcement
officers.
And
thus did a night of many mini-beers take my mind away from the troubles of the
world. Thanks, boyz.
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