Emily Logan

To begin, I will recount a conversation I had with a friend just the other day. When I asked him if he had taken advantage of Spike’s Oktoberfest deal, he said he hadn’t yet, after which I added that I hadn’t either. I proceeded to tell him that I wasn’t too fond of the beers that they had to offer with the deal.

“I can’t drink Fat Tire,” I said.

“Snob,” he replied. “What, are you too good for it? Are you too good for Bud Light, too?”

Of course, I then replied, “No!” but I was secretly thinking, “YES!”

I know my friend doesn’t really care that I don’t drink what he drinks, but I used it as motivation to explain my pickiness and defend my choice to drink what I want, even if it means paying a little more.

My pickiness when it comes to beer does not affect other people. Or at least it shouldn’t. If I know the beer pickings will be poor at a party or barbecue, I simply bring my own and share it with others. I don’t think I’m offending anyone by doing that. I may even be making someone’s day who has the same objection to certain beers as I do.

I’m not sure as to what I can attribute my pickiness. But I recently made a trip to Munich, Germany, where the beer was dirt-cheap and 10 times better than most of what we have here.

I spent a month indulging in hangover-free beer and learning a select few phrases in German-almost all of which had to do with ordering, paying for or talking about beer. Unfortunately, some of my favorite beers from this trip are not available here in the United States. I’d like to say that my pickiness originated from this over-indulgence, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t start before then.

To be honest, I didn’t like beer the first time I tried it. I went to a party and got some beer from an anonymous keg as usual, took a sip and swore I’d regret puking and embarrassing myself more than swallowing the horrid liquid. I remember drinking the entire cup slowly and methodically, as if I was taking the antidote to some poison and I had to finish it off for it to work. To this day, I don’t know what that beer actually was, but I have some ideas.

I actually know many girls who still insist that beer is putrid. Now, beer is my drink of choice-I’d choose it any day over hard alcohol for many reasons, but I just happen to be particular about what kind it is.

For fear of being pummeled by Bud fans everywhere, I won’t do anymore beer namedropping and I will add that I will drink pretty much any beer if it’s the only thing available and I don’t have my usual personal stash. But I should also add that my pickiness by no means makes me a connoisseur. My taste is often unmatched with my friends’ who have similar favorites.

My final thought on this issue is that I like to enjoy beer for what it is. My motive is not to get trashed every time I drink and I sure don’t mind paying a few extra dollars for a good beer instead of buying two of a cheaper beer with less taste.

So, for my friend who called me a snob and anyone else who shares my love of beer, meet me at Pint Night one week and I’ll buy you a beer. We’ll work it out … I’m sure there’s something we both like. Something good.

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