It was a chilly day in the winter of ought-four. The journey to work was made impossible due to ice and inch thick covering my motor vehicle. During the day we kept warm drinking Bloody Marys down the street at the diner and by washing down pitchers of cheap lager at the bowling alley across the street. As night fell the cold temperature plummeted, we would be in need of stronger spirits. To the Fox and Firkin, good cab driver, I hear they are having Trivia Night.
In attendance this weekend was fellow thoughtful writer Wes and his friend from back home, Jeremy. Trivia night was full of promise, as we started off hot, winning tons of schwag and drink coupons. This is where the night took a sour turn. With said drink coupons we were able to purchase many pitchers of Arrogant Bastard.
What was a near lock for victory, and a gift certificate for another evening at the Firkin turned into epic collapse. No more correct answers that evening, as the Arrogant Bastard in all of us started to come out. At one point, sitting next to a bar manager, unbeknown to me, I laid a plan to steal a pint glass. Amazingly the heist was a success, but the evening was out of control.
I will spare you the details, but know I woke the next morning, the phone ringing and my boss on the other end. The ice had melted and I was out of excuses as to why I shouldn’t be on my way to work.
I don’t want you to blame this tale of woe on Arrogant Bastard. Sure, the high level of alcohol content probably had a lot to do with it, but not the intense malt sweetness up front that is matched by an aggressive hop character in the finish. The reddish brown strong ale may have helped nudge me along the way, but this was all my own doing.
