Sunday, May 17, 2009

Wacko, in haste

Had to take Thomas to a softball game recently, and I couldn't help noticing that we passed the Hulmeville Inn just before getting to the field. The weather was threatening, but the fields were busy, so I dropped him off and whipped down the the grocery store. I had errands, and I was being responsible!

But when the provisions were packed in the Passat, and I cruised back to the field, the game was still going on. I figured, sign from God, and headed Hulmeville-ward. I'd already had a beer just before I left (didn't know I was going to be the driver) so I had to go session-strength -- and wasn't that a cruel joke, since Our Favorite Sales Rep, Suzanne Wood, was there with a cask of Sly Fox 113. God, that hurt. I averted my determined-to-be-responsible eyes and perused the taplist. Hmmm...Magic Hat Wacko. The beet beer. 4.5%. Gotta do it.

Well, it was clearly beet-influenced: it poured red/pink, kinda like my fingers after I've been making borsch. I was just taking my first sip when the Hulmeville's reigning Alpha Beer Geek, Steve Hawk, tapped my shoulder. Hey! Oh. Yeah. I have a glass of Wacko. That's okay, Steve says, I understand, I had to try one too. Yup. So I sat down with Steve and his fiance (I'm sorry, honey, but I'm pathetic with names), and his prop manager, Rob Strigel (Rob's the guy holding the picture of Steve), and got stuck into the Wacko.

Not a lot to say. Wacko falls into that category of Magic Hat beers -- Circus Boy, Humble Patience, Participation Ale -- that's just kinda there. It's got a bit of earthy sweetness, a fresh aroma, but nothing really interesting except the color. It drank easily enough, but I sure would have rather had a Brawler. There's a low-alc beer with something to it. Wacko just didn't have a lot. I don't understand why a 'summer' beer has to have next to no flavor.

Anyway, when I had about an inch of Wacko left, Thomas called. A thunderstorm had blown up; could I come get him? Sure, I said, where are you? Under the flagpole. Okay. I tossed the Wacko back, said good-bye to everyone, and headed up the road...and thought, under the flagpole? In a thunderstorm? I called him, and said, where am I picking you up? He laughed, and admitted he'd realized how dumb that was just about the time he'd hung up. He was at the snack bar. We went home, and I got a bottle of Sam Adams Lager with dinner. Ooomph.

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