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The 2009 Extreme Beer Fest is now history. A bunch of CRABS and Clipper City folks went, and this is my take
on the trip. Others might have different tales to tell, but since I'm the only one who cares enough to write anything,
you'll have to put up with my claptrap.
I traveled with House and Les on Thursday February 19. Other folks would be travelling later. After a few minor setbacks (Milhouse and Les miscommunicating on whose house they would meet at; the MegaBus being late), we boarded the double-decker bus to New York. We sat on the upper level, because there's nothing we like better than to take an upper decker. A guy sitting near us just happened to work for Bevel Design, who does the graphics for Clipper City's bottle labels. What were the odds of that? Probably the same odds that my 401(k) will ever recover to the value of a pound of hops.
We got to New York around dinnertime. As we entered the Lincoln Tunnel, the 5 lanes of traffic funneled down to 2, which was disturbingly reminiscent of a porn flick I once saw that was filmed in a proctologist's office. No wonder New Yorkers are so hostile.
We disembarked and walked FIFTEEN FRIGGIN' BLOCKS to our hotel with all our shit in tow. When we arrived I was sweating like a Citibank executive at a bailout meeting. We checked in, dropped our bags off and flagged down a cab. Muwambi, our illustrious driver whose last name contained 5 consonants in a row, brought us to Spitzer's Corner, a pub with good food and about 30 beer taps. We met up with House's friend Chris and ate and drank with him for a while. The place was packed, and forget about getting a table. I did manage to grab a table after some folks left, but it turned out to be reserved. I figured this out when a waitress started hitting me with a menu.
We left in search of pizza, which is supposed to be great in New York. Trash lined the sidewalks; some of it was in bags. People on the street spoke every language known to Man (except English). It was so crowded and dirty that I actually longed for inner city Baltimore. Anyway, we had some pizza slices, which were good but certainly not the best pizza I've ever had in my life. Then we went to another pub called D.B.A. It had hundreds of beers from around the world. After a few beers we left, parted ways with Chris, and went in search of the subway. After wandering around in the freezing cold I finally asked a friendly passer-by, "How do I get underground?" She replied, "Drop dead." Oh yeah, I love the Big Crapple.
The subway was very similar to the Boston subway that I grew up with. It smelled of B.O. and despair. The main difference is that in Boston they at least remove most of the stabbing victims. We rode to a place called Cafe de Bruxelles, which was small, clean, quiet, and uncrowded. A bit pricey though. They had about 30 different beer bottles, most of them Belgian. We each got a bottle of something great, and also some "pomme frites", which were touted as being the best in the city. I don't know. I mean, they were good, but I've had McDonalds fries that tasted better.
We made it back to the hotel a little after midnight, and it wasn't until then that House and Les started breaking wind. God forbid they should do it while we were out and about. Anyway, we hit the hay shortly thereafter. The bloodstains on our sheets reminded us which city we were in.
Friday morning we had to get up before 6 AM to catch an early bus to Boston. House completely filled the room with his intestinal expulsions. At first I thought it was Les, but House had been throwing his farts. I didn't know he was an asstriloquist. Good thing I slept on the floor, because heat rises.
After checking out we had a good breakfast at a local restaurant, where I paid less for a plate of food than I had paid for a single bottle of beer the night before. Then we waited in the cold wind for the MegaBus. Les remarked, "It's mornings like this that I'm glad I'm fat." We wanted to avoid the wind by standing next to Penn Station, but it smelled like homeless urine.
Several hours later we arrived at Boston's South Station. Kurt, John and Pam had left Maryland that morning and missed their connecting bus in New York because the Einsteins who work for the bus company used a non-MegaBus bus. Luckily they caught another one an hour later. Meanwhile the three of us checked into the Midtown Hotel and then rode the subway to the Sunset Grille and Tap. I had been there in the past, but this was my first visit in the daylight. And sober. The place had nice decor, great food in huge portions, 112 taps and about 300 bottles. We tried 14 different beers (mostly 5-ounce samples), including some great beers from Founders. The beers from Sixpoint and Speakeasy were good too. We loaded up on food to lay a base down for the fest. Then we returned to the hotel where Kurt, John and Pam met us, and we all walked to the Night of the Barrels.
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There was a fairly long line, but since attendance was limited to 700, it wasn't a big deal. As we approached the entrance, a security guy told us to line up "side by each". Apparently English was his third language. Anyway, we figured out that he meant side by side, so I started singing, "The drunks go marching two by two, hurrah, hurrah..." I wasn't even drunk and already I was a liability.
Inside there were more than 60 beers from dozens of breweries. Cross Street Irregular member Brian and CRABS member Marisol were there. In order to maximize our resources, several of us would go to a beer station and get all (or at least most) of the beers being served there, then share them. This was a very efficient system that resulted in our trying almost every beer within about an hour and a half. According to my digital recorder, the beers I tasted were as follows. If a beer was particularly good or bad, I noted it in brackets.
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House very considerately checked to see that my recorder was functioning properly:
We got some food (provided by Sunset Grille) and went back for seconds of our favorite beers. We also pilfered a bunch of tasting cups that attendees had left on the tables.
Afterward the 6 Midtown dwellers hit a "packie" and picked up some Harpoon Celtic, La Chouffe Golden Ale, Harpoon Leviathan Baltic Porter, Harpoon Leviathan Imperial IPA, Wachusett Blueberry, and Founders Dirty Bastard. We returned to the hotel, where the 5 of them hung out and drank. I just hung out. (Literally: I was in my underwear, which caused Pam to squint. And laugh.) Kurt kicked people in the nuts. I don't remember what we talked about but my recorder does:
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Saturday morning the 5 guys woke up gasping, as House had once again tooted the night away. Pam was so lucky that she had her own room. We listened to some love messages that Jim had left on someone's phone the night before. Ass you'll hear, on the first one he sounded relatively coherent:
But not so much on the last one:
We walked to Mike's City Diner for brunch. The place was small and packed. Marisol joined us and the 7 of us had a great meal. I scarfed down most of what other folks couldn't finish, until the waitress told me that if I was going to eat off other people's plates, the least I could do was limit it to people at my table.
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Back at the hotel we had a Harpoon Leviathan Imperial IPA, which was very good and hoppy. Then we walked to the fest, and even though we were 25 minutes early, there were hundreds of people ahead of us. It wasn't as cold as the previous year, and there wasn't as much wind (except for House's ass).
This day we all did our own thing instead of going en masse to each station, so we missed a lot of beers but still drank plenty. My beer adventures included:
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The Bruery was definitely the surprise brewery of the fest. We had never heard of them before. They're located in California and have a web page here.
Afterward the 6 Midtowners plus Marisol walked to Boston Beer Works, which is next to Fenway Park (or, as we Bostonians say, Fenway Pahk). I hadn't been to this place in about 10 years. It has a nice big, woody interior (and of course there's nothing better than big wood), and 14 taps. The brewing equipment is viewable through glass. We had some good appetizers and beer. Well, the other folks had beer; I just ate.
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After that, Marisol walked back for the second beer fest session (yes, she went to both sessions!) and the rest of us walked to Bukowski's Tavern. This place apparently has a mug club because there were many mugs hanging over the bar. It was dark and loud with music and lots of people. It has many drafts and bottles. We met friends of House named Joel and Tara. Everyone drank while I nodded off and people poked and bitch-slapped me to keep me awake. I walked back to the hotel with John (I hope that was him anyway) and crashed. The others rolled in a few hours later. During the night Les snored louder than a demo at a chainsaw convention. He and House teamed up to choke all of us with methane. If there were a stink tax they'd be the poorest mofos on the planet.
On Sunday morning the 6 of us rode the subway to South Station to catch the MegaBus. We were accosted by someone looking for a handout. The MegaBus stopped in New York on the way back, and while everyone else in our group was relieving themselves at Penn Station, another person asked me for money. Apparently my ex-wife has been telling everyone what a sucker I am.
We finally arrived in Maryland, where it was colder than a witch's tit in a brass brassiere. We then went home to give our livers - and noses - a much-needed rest.