I end my evening with Pono’s El Garotte IPA. It’s a NE style IPA, which means it’s visually obscured and influenced by Florida’s fruit.
Eh. The finish has an interesting dry quality to it, which I wasn’t expecting. I’m also hard pressed to suggest that the beer is bitter at all, with the fruity flavors making such a strong appearance. On the other hand, I do not see a reason to recommend it. It’s OK, but I don’t want to have another. And I think this comes from the finish, where it ends dry but there’s also something coating the roof of my mouth that I’m trying to scrape off.
It’s a mouthfeel thing; chalky, grainy, and I do not like it.
I’ve come to blog following my volunteer service at SheBrew and it’s difficult to summon the kind of coherency that provides me with a proper throughline for the evening. I can still pay attention, though; people watching never fails to provide entertainment.
The old man in the far corner, alone, staring into a phone, its light reflected off his glasses.
The trio in the process of leaving, the man clearly doing this ‘fuck you, I’m done but I want to have the last word’ thing, while one woman giggled at the whole scenario and the second woman had a combination of disbelief and upset on her face. The man held the door, ‘I’m waiting for you, damnit’ was his body language, the women in no hurry because, if I had to guess, this guy was being an asshole….
The subtly creepy, greasy haired fella in the corner, who gave me the dude headnod as I sat down, which I returned. Because that’s just how you do absent other evidence. Being rude to strangers never served anyone well.
The woman in the neon pink tracksuit, with neon yellow highlights.
Man, it takes all kinds. Which is great.
There’s a party going on in another corner, with a group of close to ten people taking over a space. My eye catches on the tall woman in red, but appreciating that she is there is enough. I am too tired to meet strangers. Give me friends to flirt with, if anyone at all. The small thrill of a friend who likes you, even if it doesn’t go anywhere, is more comforting when the yoke of the day weighs heavy then the adoration of strangers can ever be.
The second pint goes to the International Refugee Assistance Project.