This Beer Sucks

I am not one who is easily insulted. Pick on me because I have may have a zit the size of a wasabi pea on my nose and I won't be insulted. Remark that my posture is worse that Kurt Cobain's and I'll say, you're right, no offense taken. Remind me that I adore breasts and I'll ask, who doesn't?

But despite my resiliance to petty put downs, an insult was recently hurled at me that penetrated my thick skin like a flying shard from a broken heart of glass. While away on a two night business trip in Providence, RI, I was served a pint of IPA at a prominent and well established brew pub that was so unacceptable, I had no choice but to think that the server had mistaken me for some kind of Budweiser-loving die hard curious to know what a micro-brew tastes like and would never know that something had gone terribly, terribly wrong. Not that there's anything wrong with Budweiser-loving die hards.

I was so insulted by being served a pint of apple-cider-looking, bad-home-brew tasting, brew-pub-business ending disgrace, that I politely sent it back and ordered water. The next night, at a different brew pub, the same thing happened, and a salty injury was added to the wound from the former night's insult.

So, at the next bar, I ordered a bottle of Budweiser, and it was delicious.