A Bad Night Out

Last evening my husband and I went to a nearby restaurant to attend a political function. The place was one of those new craft breweries that are popping up everywhere -- here in our little Maine town there are already five, with a new one under construction-- making me think that many young people are alcoholics-in-training.  

It was a new experience for me as I am not a beer drinker and so have little reason to go to a brewery, crafty or not. But I tagged along and found the experience quite eye-opening.

It was very loud. I mean very loud, making conversation all but impossible. The food was mediocre at best. There was a DJ shouting random questions into a microphone, upping the noise level to utterly ridiculous. (Turns out Wednesday is Trivia Night.) Our event was held on the outdoor patio, which might have been pleasant except for the mosquitos and the view of the Interstate.

While the attendees at our event were mostly seniors, all of the brewery patrons appeared to be in their twenties. Everyone was heavily tattooed. Most were dressed as homeless people in tattered clothing and looking like extras from Shaun of the Dead.

Beer was everywhere. Craft or not, it's not wine, despite my husband's insistence that I should pretend I was at a Napa Valley winery. (Ha!) I tasted a few with names like Beachfront Property, Pantless Thunder Goose and General's Daughter. There were maybe 50 different kinds, none of them as good as Rolling Rock in my worthless opinion. Apparently they spend more time coming up with the names than making the beer.

I hated the whole experience and went home with a bad mosquito bite on my cheek.