As fervent followers of this web-log know, the Bitter Nib is the place you can go for what I call the 3-Selfs: Self-reflection, self-doubt, and self-recrimination. Immediately after perusing and assessing these images, I think on how I did it wrong, all the pictures I didn't take, all the things missing that would make it a proper photo essay. Pictures of the brewery (and the incredible new rooftop mural), the lines, the signs, the free kegs of Moe's and Coffee Bender Omar traditionally rolls out (how did I miss out on them entirely? Too far back in line, maybe?)
It only took logging on facebook later Saturday night to see the kinds of photos my friends took, that I didn't. Photos of the triumpant smiles and the recently attached wristbands. Proud photos of the bottles purchased. Photos of myself with Omar or any of the rest of the Ansari clan. (Pictures with Naseem are just as sought-after as those with his son.) Largely missing are any photos of myself at all, and perhaps that's for the best. And then, the friends I never snapped a shot of, because I just stopped remembering to do so, or, maybe my phone was running out of charge. A simple visit to their facebook pages shows a wealth of memorable images, such as the brewery crew being transformed into zombies, or the mayor of Minneapolis playing Hammerschlagen.
So without further doubt or recrimination, here's part three of four of the Darkness Day experience in pictures, as taken by me.
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| Angie is inscrutable. But, Lord, can she scrut when she wants to! |
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| Dave is probably telling me about some incredible beer he just had (I have to thank him for saving a bottle of Foothills Sexual Chocolate to open when I finally showed up at his table), while a grill roars on behind him. |
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| Nate is espcially preparing for this long night's journey into Darkness morning, coffee cup in hand, pretzels around his neck. |
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| Eric and his Wisconsin pal (damn me for a fool, but I'm horrible with names, especially when it comes to people I only see once a year or so), are trucking down the avenue, ready to enter the brewery gates. |
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| One eagerly anticipated Darkness Day event is the running of the Haugs, as Todd (seen here on his fat-tired Pugglsey, by the other Surly) and Linda roar in on bicycle. |
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| "Get out of my face, Al" Todd seems to be saying. No, he probably really is saying it. |
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| Here, John poses in front of a wall of Surly cans, Furious and Bitter Brewer, just as Omar did on the cover of a recent BeerAdvocate magazine. We are in the brewery and in the long, long line for our bottles. Shelly brought my three to me, but I had nowhere to put them. Holding them all proved difficult, and one fell from my hands. Just another dead soldier in a powder blue night, to quote Tom Waits. With 2 bottles in hand, and a mess I left behind, the Brooklyn Center municipal liquor store clerk selling me my bottles was confused. "You already have two, though." "Yes, and now I want my six, please." Was it too hard to understand, or was I making it difficult for her? |
2 comments:
Chad! I am amazed you remembered Erich seeing as how it must be a year since I've seen you.
I like how I'm keeping the center of gravity low for beer transport safety.
Full disclosure: It took a great long time to remember your name, and I did remember Chad's BA name, but that was it. I actually confused you with another BA "monkey" for a minute. Won't objectivemonkey make a fool out of me?
It's best, though to keep quiet, and none will be the wiser. Sometimes people say, "oh, my god he remembered my name" with no idea how hard I struggled to remember it.
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