There’s a ton of free Guinness Black Lagers lined up on my hotel desk. They’re set up like a bunch of balls on a billiard table. Like in a triangle. Which is super swell except I can’t drink any of them.
I WANT to drink the Guinness Black Lagers. I had a really long day of watching folks golf and driving golf carts. I should def be knocking a few back and feeling all gluggy glad-o.
But I don’t have a bottle opener. One’s all it takes. And I can’t do that trick where you use one beer bottle to open another like my bf does. (I tried that trick but I just knocked over the beers and felt stupid.) Also I can’t crack open bottles with my teeth because I’ve never been a frat asshole. (Someone send me a bottle opener keychain already.)
The beers are stacked on a mahogany polymer kind of desk under a window that faces some green Chicago ‘burbs. Canada Geese fly past the window from time to time, which is sweet, and reminds me of my mom and my grandma because of how they like birds. But the geese, the window, everything, my face, would be sweeter if I was drinking some of this beer.
It’s like that story about the Arctic explorers who starved because they had the canned goods but no can opener. Except I think that’s not a historically real thing, maybe. I think that’s only in the novel Solomon Gurskey Was Here, by Mordecai Richler. (Read it.) Or maybe my situ is more like the cobbler’s children going barefoot. Sort of like that except I’m wearing slippers. (Shut up! I packed slippers.)
So. I’m at this wonky hotel a commuter train and a half north of a very pretty city with my humungo pile of unopened beers. My TV is only pay-per, which is lame because you can get that stuff for nothing on the Internet. To boil it down: I’m American TVless. Beerless. Also foodless. The cheapest thing on the dial-up menu is mac and cheese — and a small bowl puts me back eleven bucks. What is this, Rwanda?
I call room service like a boob. A burly ginner who looks exactly like the autistic son who works at a cafe in my hometown comes up with a bottle opener and some KD. (Eleven dollars for KD. Bottle opener = free.) He says, “You have a lot of beer!” I say now I do.
Guinness’ new Black Lager is light and fizzy and delicious. The beer also compares favorably to the macaroni and powdered cheese, which is less than great by a lot of people’s standards.
I crank up the volume on my laptop, find an ’80s episode of Degrassi I never saw, get some pillows going on and have myself another.
(If ONE PERSON writes to tell me the beer has a twist off cap that will really suck.)