9% ABV bottled and boxed!
Upwardly mobile big city yuppies often like to try and make each other think they’re still very much immersed in the more transgressive and fun parts of society. That they still “got it.” That they’re actually having as much fun as the rest of us. They’ll even make up and throw out certain buzz words, catch phrases if you will, to reinforce these faulty thoughts. “Day drinking” is probably the biggest of these such words. As in, “What are your plans for today?” “Oh, just doing some day drinking.” Like we’re supposed to be really impressed they have chosen to spend their Saturday or Sunday like most normal cool people do–BY DRINKING. There’s even a Facebook fan page set up for this lamest of self-back-patting hobbies.
Let me fill you guys in on something, there’s nothing outrageously cool or profligatic about drinking a Bud Light on a Saturday at 14:00 hours. Nothing ornery about slurping down a Bloody Mary with brunch while rocking your massive SUV of a stroller parked next to the booth. What? You think you’re being “bad”? You think that drinking while the sun is out and bad Big Ten football is still on the air is naughty? You think you’re only “allowed” to start tippling once the dinner hour begins? Grow up.
“Day drinking” is St. Patty’s Day or New Year’s Eve in micro. A time us cool people set aside for the amateurs to drink so we can quickly clear them off the streets in time for us to actually start guzzling. It’s like how New Yorkers give the tourists Times Square and 59th Street, us real drinkers give you phonies Saturdays and Sundays from noon to 5 to throw down in public. We’ll be at home getting loaded by ourselves.
You want to be a real badass? Don’t day drink on a Saturday or a Sunday, or the occasional Monday or Friday holiday off. Go day drinking on a fucking Tuesday. Or a Wednesday. That’s when the real badasses are day drinking. Take off work on any normal and insignificant Thursday and go get shitcanned by yourself. Oh you will see characters my friend. You will see the dregs of society. Men, always men, that somehow skirt the paradox between having absolutely nothing going on in their lives, yet still enough money to fund their “disease.” And what a grand disease it is! The sun pouring into the quiet bar, “Oprah” or maybe “Family Feud” on the wall TVs for there are no sports on air at this hour, maybe–maybe–some cricket or rugby or hurling from some weird country, but that’s about it. Bartenders reading the NY Post, the occassional suit going all “Mad Men” for a liquid lunch, some vacationing foreigners. There is no talking, there is no mingling, there is certainly no flirting, this kind of day drinking is all about you and your hooch. It is no group celebration but fuck is it fun.
But I don’t want to be an alcoholic you say! Only “alcoholics” day drink on those days!
My point exactly! So you admit you simply wanted to be a faux-alcoholic for a little undeserved street cred. Just like you wanted to be when you went to that faux-dive bar last week. Let me let you in on a little secret: there’s no such thing as a chain dive bar. And those buffalo wings ain’t that wild either.
Alcoholism, drunkenness, is an all-or-nothing proposition, friend-o, you’re either fully in or fully out.
Though maybe you’re like me. Ya’ want to be a boozehound without all the unpleasant whispering from the Joneses of society. Then do the day drinking all by yourself. It’ll be our little secret. Stay inside your tiny little abode and just start shredding through your beer cellar. How zen! How stoic! Much better than tai chi. Open that boxed Widmers you just got. Wait a sec? Widmer makes a BOXED fancy beer? But I thought they were like a “macro-micro”? So did I brother, so did I. But you know I can’t turn down a boxed beer. And goddamn am I so glad I got to try it. It was really quite good. Your classic chewy dopple maltiness, rich chocolate, etc, but with a beautiful underlying hint of dark cherries and a vanilla oak finish. This is actually a one of a kind beer, and I greatly enjoyed it.
I’m not gonna quite induct it into the dopplebock pantheon alongside, say, Celebrator, Salvator, Thomas Hooker’s, them boys is legends, but it’s pretty freaking good. I hope to try it again and all of the sudden I’m looking at Widmer with a new eye, like a girl that just got implants, hoping to try some more from them. What else ya’ guys got?