Tag Archives: Beer

Rental Property

I’m the kinda guy who likes to be left alone while visiting the little boys room, especially at work.  I’m also fully aware that most people don’t really like to acknowledge that the people working in the restaurant they are dining in actually use the bathroom, so I generally am pretty intent on getting in and out with little fanfare.

Working in a bar, however, can offer it’s own unique obstacles that can interfere with my potty efficiencies.

Fast-forward to me, assuming the position at a discreet local which we will refer to solely as Urinal A, my head resting on my forearm that I have bracing myself against the wall, while my other is busy with, well, you know, when all of a sudden a unkempt gentleman with questionable hygiene announces his arrival by crashing into the bathroom and zig-zagging his way to Urinal B, nearly causing me to pee on my shoe when he bumped into me on his way.

I maintain my stoic gaze forward, trying to ignore the thick breathing as the guy tries to equip himself, when all of a sudden I hear a firehose-esque blast into the back of the porcelain, followed with a deep and satisfying sigh which made me wonder if a cigarette and some spooning might follow.  Instead I can feel his eyes shift over to me and I hear,

“You know you can only rent this, right?”

I meet his gaze and noticed that while he is facing me his eyes have crossed over with a dreamy glaze and a curly smirk is plastered on his face.

Zipping up and preparing to stomp on his foot before tossing him head-first into wall, I calmly respond, “Excuse me, Sir?”

“The beer, bro.  The beer.  You know you can only rent this shit bro!  For reeeeeaaal!”

I shoulda’ done it.  I so shoulda’ done it…

Welcome to the Big Leagues

A few weeks ago our local minor league baseball team held a mid-summer promotion as a token of thanks for its sponsors.  Because I convinced my restaurant to write them a check with a fair number of zeros behind it early in the spring, my invitation arrived in the mail, crisp and sealed, waiting for an RSVP.

The event had its fair share of appeal.  Besides FREE food as well as FREE beer (though I was going to have to tap the Rockies or take a ride on the Silver Bullet, which is asking a lot of a manager of a brewery), they were also opening up the batting cage where we could take a few cuts and test our mettle on the same field where the soon-to-be-big-boys play ball.  In all honesty, I could have cared less about batting practice- they had me at FREE food and FREE beer (I can stomach anything, after all).  My wife, however, a varsity softball player herself, was intrigued.  It was a date!

With all the FREE going around, we went ahead and brought along our son.  No reason to deprive him of any discount-priced calories or the chance to see mommy crank a foul ball off her wrists, after all.

Dinner went down smooth, as anything does when you are able to lube it up with ballpark chili and chase it with banquet beer.  My wife went down to get her name on the better’s  list while I stayed put to get my money’s worth before making my own way down to support her efforts in the cage.

I tried to remain inconspicuous as I tried to find a seat, but at 6’4″, 250lbs and a few plastic cups in, incognito is difficult to do, and before I knew it I was recognized and on the list myself. 

Damn.

 Off to the dugout I went…

To loosen up and stretch…

…and wait for my intro music to play over the PA system before thousands (or tens) of my adoring fans (people patiently waiting their turn) raised to their feet in thunderous anticipation (drank their free beer and ate their free chili burgers and chips).


Let’s just saw I didn’t disappoint.

The first person to greet me at the steps of the dugout was my son.  I picked him up and we celebrated my trivial moment with a big hug and kiss, when I looked deep in his eyes and said,

“Hey, buddy, let me put you down.  Daddy really needs to pee.”

As luck would have it, there was a restroom at the end of the dugout.  While taking care of business, I felt the door to the tight bathroom open into my back where my son peeked around it and let me know he needed to go as well.  Suddenly I realized the opportunity had presented itself to allow me to pass along one of life’s great lessons:

“If you want to play in the Big Leagues, son, you must first pee were the Big Leaguer’s peed on their way to The Show.”

The Greatest Picture Ever

So Erik and I went to Beer Club Night at a Colorado Springs Sky Sox game (Thanks again, Peter) for a piece on rediscovering.wordpress.com.   The premiss was one man’s perceptions (Erik) of another as he gets a bit too deep in some Rocky Mountain Refreshment (Yours Truly).  Anyway, coming out of concession’s with #9 & #10, I saw the team’s mascot, Sox the Fox, taking pictures with the kids.  It turns out I have done this before-

Innocence from last season

Innocence from last season

With a few too many already flowing in my veins (all within the spirit of the article, mind you) I ran down (stumbled really, and lucky not to have broken my neck) to our seats and tell Erik what I found.

We rush to Sox’s table where I am greeted skeptically by his handler.  I take a deep breath, and do my best to keep my eyes from straying in different directions, and tell the gentleman that me and my partner are writers of a travel blog (it’s true) and were covering the Mug Club for the site.  We told him that a picture with Sox would be a great accent for our piece.

It’s a funny thing that happens when you let people think you are doing something important.  Where just moments before this guy was about to call security and have me put in an arm-bar and removed from the premises, he opens up my path to Sox the Fox and says, “Oh wow!  Take a few if you have to!”

Thank you sir, but just one will do…

It's good to see you again, buddy...

It's good to see you again, buddy...