Looking Forward, But Still Enjoying the Present.

I ran an errand to help out a friend of mine today. For this I was paid one hundred and fifty dollars, which is most of the cost of the plane ticket I will be buying for New York. I am finally going to visit K. Two weeks from tomorrow, in fact, and I am pretty blasted excited about it. I can't stay long, and I haven't even begun to think of what I might like to do- aside form the obvious eating like a pig and drinking some good beer, that is. I've been to Central Park and the Empire State Building, but never to the Statue of Liberty. I'm not above touristy stuff, but I can't imagine standing in line at the statue in January being a pleasant experience, so maybe I'll try to knock a museum off the list instead. I saw something in a book today about a Museum of Moving Pictures in Brooklyn, so that's convenient. I will certainly be visiting the Brooklyn Brewery. That alone may cause my baggage to double on the way home.
Mostly I just can't wait to see K again and talk shit and drink and smoke too much. I'll have to remember to get the name of Shayne's favorite shitty dive bar, and I'm hoping to hook up with an old friend who I haven't seen in at least fifteen years. It's all very exciting. The b.h. will be on tour, so although I will be seeing him on this trip (at both The Mercury Lounge and whatever place they're playing in Brooklyn), I am actually going to be flying solo. Should be interesting. I haven't done it in seven years.
Work was pretty hilarious tonight. We were all pretty busy with pre-inventory nonsense and feeling a bit punchy. At one point a guy I know came in and I was helping him pick out a beer. I asked if he had tried Arrogant Bastard. He had. Double Bastard? No. Me neither. We settled on a Lagunitas Hop Stoopid, because he is as big a hops fan as I am. I walked with him up to the counter and we chatted while Allen rang him out.
"Did you say you've had the Double Bastard?" Alan asked me.
"No, have you?"
"Yeah. Wow."
"Is it good?"
"It needs like another year in the bottle."
"What do you mean? What does it taste like?"
"Like a pissed off panther in your mouth."
"Well, not having blown any angry panthers, I'm not sure what you mean, but I'll take it under advisement."
"Not any angry ones, but the nice ones..." Reed chimed in.
"Yeah, the nice ones I blow all the time."
We all laughed. Reed said goodbye and I turned around to walk back into the wine section. That's when I realized there were other customers in line.

After we closed, the guys broke out a couple bottles of new beer for all of us to taste. The first was a blonde ale, which I immediately thought smelled of lemons. It tasted worse than it smelled. I gave my glass right over to the Hobbit (this is my name for our manager who is small and fuzzy and drunk - not drunk at work, mind you, but he likes his beer). The boys continued to taste, adding descriptors like Lemon Pledge, Pine Sol, bananas, and cat piss.
"Okay, really, we need to figure out how to describe this to people so they'll actually want to buy it. Say something positive."
This was Allen, ever the optimist.
"It doesn't taste like slavery," said Stan.
We all busted up. This went on for several minutes, with none of us able to say anything good that actually meant anything. In the end I decided to take my leave. They cracked open an Amber before walking me out to my car. I wouldn't be surprised if they were still there.
Sometimes I really enjoy my job.