Forgive me, Beer Father, for I have sinned. It has been quite a number of days since my last confession.
The other night, while I was on the road, I chose to buy dinner at the grocery store, rather than add another notch in my belt at a chain restaurant. Grocery store sushi is not necessarily the finest cuisine in the world, but it sure beat the fried appetizers I might otherwise have been tempted to order from my perch at the bar.
But that was not my sin. In fact, that should be points in my favor as I try to shed some pounds and get back into trim cycling shape.
Beer Father, the good news was that grocery stores in New York, unlike here in Massachusetts, sell beer. The Hannaford Supermarket where I was shopping even sells microbrews. I had a full selection in front of me, but given that I was only staying in New York for one more night, I played it safe and bought only a 4-pack of Guinness draught cans.
I hope, Beer Father, you can overlook the moderation. I will grant that it was neither a super-hopped IPA nor a double bock. However, I also did not choose the 40-ounce bottle of Bud — not that there is anything wrong with Budweiser, but Guinness is a decent enough choice for a beer aficionado. Any port in a storm, plus the leftover cans would transport more easily and safely on the trip home.
Yes, I know, Beer Father. It is a sin to buy a 4-pack and drink the contents across multiple nights. Did you hear me earlier when I espoused my fitness goal? Yes, I know Guinness touts itself as being lighter than most beers, but I was intending to ride the next morning. I have resumed my habit of bringing my bike on the road with me when traveling by car. I had ridden after work on Monday and intended to ride before work on Wednesday. Four Guinnesses (Guinni?) would provide excuses the next morning. If I were to drink only two, I knew for certain I would not avoid the ride the next day.
My confession goes deeper, though, Beer Father. Not only did I not finish the 4-pack, but when I packed up the next day, I left two soldiers behind.
Yes, Beer Father, it was indeed a mortal beer sin. I don’t know how it happened. I remembered everything else, including the plastic container with some leftover dried apricots. The beer completely slipped my mind though. Party foul of all party fouls: I never even checked the mini-fridge to make sure I wasn’t leaving anything behind.
Yes, I know, Beer Father. You’re right. I am getting old. I need to write things down so I remember them. Why, even today I had intended to take the bike to the shop for an annual tune-up, and completely forgot when I became immersed in work this afternoon. But forget to pack unconsumed beer? I never thought that was possible.
The silver lining, Beer Father, is the housekeeper at the Hampton Inn got a pretty nice tip. I imagine the sun broke through the clouds and illuminated the mini-fridge as he or she discovered the two unopened, chilled cans of Guinness within. Sláinte, and thanks for taking good care of me at my home away from home.
While I am baring my soul Perhaps I should admit that I am not drinking a beer as I make this confession. Yes, Beer Father, I have strayed far from the righteous beer path. I have a 6-pack of Sierra Nevada Porter sitting in my refrigerator here at home, begging to be indulged. Instead, I had water at dinner tonight.
I’m wearing an Offshore Ale Co. T-shirt, though. That has to count for something, doesn’t it?
What should I do for my penance, Beer Father? Say four @TheBeerFathers and make a Spicy Beer Mary. Will do, Beer Father, and I’ll start drinking those porters tomorrow night, too.
Sent from my iPad