I’m finally inaugurated into Shakespeare’s “Around the World in 80 Beers” club. By Hannah Wallace “If I had a thousand sons, the first human principle I would teach them should be, to forswear thin potations and addict themselves to sack.” –Falstaff, Henry IV Part Two Man, what a kickass, raucous gathering we […]
December 4, 2007
I’m finally inaugurated into Shakespeare’s “Around the World in 80 Beers” club.
By Hannah Wallace
“If I had a thousand sons, the first human principle I would teach them should be, to forswear thin potations and addict themselves to sack.” –Falstaff, Henry IV Part Two
Man, what a kickass, raucous gathering we had at Shakespeare’s Saturday night. Great turnout, packed the place. And when I downed my last drop of Guinness, the final of my yearlong journey through 80 beers, the whole crowd erupted in “For she’s a jolly good fellow.”
Oh wait, no, it was just CCB, Copy Editor Megan and me. And my parents. There was no singing. In fact, Shakespeare’s was so empty on Saturday I’m led to believe I actually drove business away. Yep, it was a real hootenanny.
But never mind all ya’ll slackers, my prizes did not disappoint: a nifty pic of me on the wall, 12 fancy bottles of beer, and a t-shirt—marked with the regrettable “Two beers or not two beers.” I mean, that’s slightly cleverer than most Hamlet manglings (although, par for the course, it doesn’t make any sense), but if we’re drowning the Dane (at a Bard-named establishment, to boot), why not go all out? What about, “There’s nothing either good or bad but drinking makes it so”? Or, “Frailty, thy name is Budweiser”?
Anyway, they let me pick half the prize beers I took home that night (the other six were picked by the bartender—probably based on nothing more than surplus). I picked the memorable ones, good and bad, that would serve as souvenirs for the experience: Scottish brews Wee Heavy and Skullsplitter (for the cool names), Murphy’s Irish Stout (which I’d had years ago on a trip to Scotland), Belgium’s raspberry treat, Lambic Framboise, and similarly tasty RedBach. Last, I decided, was 28-proof Samichlaus from Austria—the bane of my quest. I may just keep that one unopened to celebrate the fact that I never have to drink it again.
TALL, DARK AND TASTY: Sporting my beer shirt and Guinness in hand, I celebrate with my crowd of supporters.
I look forward to returning to Shakespeare’s, having a pint or two of my choice, and sneaking a peak of my pic on the wall. Feel free to make a shrine of it; I won’t be embarrassed.