Wednesday, September 24, 2014


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The first time the home brew tour was mentioned, we were told that "Tickets sell out fast." I logged on 3 minutes after the virtual ticket window opened. Already sold out.

Personally, I was done. Offline, I don't wait on line. Online, I don't participate in "refresh" skirmishes. Tom, on the other hand, succumbed to the whispered lure of malt liquor begat upon the stove in a stranger's domicile. After three months of trying, his nimble fingers scored us tickets. Saturday at the crack of noon, we were on an F-train to Brooklyn.

Josh, the tour organizer, proved a righteous shepherd of drunken beer aficionados and those of us who were more like just drunk. He marched at the fore bearing a long stick with a beer can stuck on the end of it. Over the course of four hours, he guided us to the apartments of three home brewers with plenty of product. 

Mostly, my fellow beer marchers talked about APV and sugar content while they lovingly caressed hops in plastic baggies. There was a lot of finger smelling. That's what you do after you touch hops, you smell your fingers. Next time I see someone smelling their fingers I will ask them if perchance they recently fondled a hop. 

Completely unqualified to discourse with people wearing "Brewklyn 2014 Award Winner" T-shirts, I participated in several sidebar conversations. I met a grad student named Erica studying technology for the home, like thermostat apps or ones to fire up your disco ball while you're still over at Duane Reed buying snacks. Erica called this "mobile home technology." You could tell she grew up on East 23rd Street. She had no idea that those of us from the shtetl might think she spent her days out in the trailer park wiring up double wides. 

I spent a good ten minutes in wondrous awe listening to Erica talk about this mobile home technology of hers. Last time i enjoyed an evening in a trailor park, I recall old Milwaukee pounders and Tang with grain alcohol and as a rule, baggies did not contain bespoke hops. My world did a little twerk as I studied what I thought was a new kind of trailer folk. One who had cut off her mullet, turned off Nascar and now attended tres fancy nerd events in south Brooklyn. I was sad when things got cleared up.

Soon after that, I told Josh he had a nice voice for podcasting. He was singularly unflattered so I skulked off and picked a small fight with a doctor about electronic health records.

Then the DSTAKK crew ate some great noodles at this Italian joint in Park Slope.
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