I’m in the front corner tonight, and it’s for maximum relaxin’, I tell you what. Me and a Caldera Vanilla Wheat and it’s all good.
Although there isn’t much vanilla in this vanilla wheat. The nose is right out of a helles, hinting of skunkiness-heck, even the body is such, and as you can see, nobody could fault you for thinking this was a lager. Maybe in the soft edges, the midpoint curve of my tongue, there’s a hint of vanilla but it’s almost like a wardrobe malfunction rather than a congnitive effort.
I feel like leaning back. This corner is one where you can kick your legs out, if you’re by yourself. There’s definitely a ‘surveying my domain’ element, since I’m in an area which allows me to look out opon the two main lines of the pub that feels a bit princely.
Or, like I’m ready for the assassination attempt. I hear that gunslingers would sit so they could face the door, back in the day. It wouldn’t work so well at Bailey’s, to be a gunslinger: it’s impossible to sit in such a way where your back isn’t to some window.
There’s a lipstick print near me, on the outside pane. I like that. I mean, it’s gotta go someday but I like that someone was flirting enough to kiss someone through the glass. It’s pretty special when things like that happen to me, at least, so I’d hope that the recipient appreciated the effort.
There’s a bloke behind the counter who’s new: I’m told he’s offering samples of mead. Cool, let’s try that. He’s a Blue Dog employee and at Bailey’s, on a Monday, he’s just a touch forlorn. Shame, because he’s a nice guy with good mead. He calls what he’s pouring the ‘wine version’ and he tells me that they’re making an ale version that should be available in April. Which is super cool, because I am sure I’ve had mead as wine but I don’t know that I’ve ever had it as ale. Something to look forward too, for certain.
The laptop battery is dying. I’m feeling a pressure: hurry, hurry, get this all down. Don’t lose your thoughts to the whimsy of laptop batteries. This is no way to lord of one’s domain. What’s the point of ruling if you don’t get to relax from time to time? My fault, of course, for not preparing in advance. Isn’t that always the way?
I suppose it doesn’t hurt that the Caldera is the kind of beer that you can pound. There’s no reason to sip this drink that I can think of and when I have the ‘hurry, hurry’ element going, well…
Hm. This is not technology serving me. It’s the Ferris Buller axiom: if you go too fast, you might miss it. I think it’s time to unplug, appreciate the bar and have another ale, a sippin’ ale.
But I tell ya, you come here and have a chance at the corner table? Take it.