A brew fest is a spectacular event that perhaps doesn’t sound that fun but is actually very fun. Here is how it works: Tickets are $30, which seem like kind of a lot—why don’t we just spend that much on beer and hang out at home, one might say (I said this). Sun. People. Lines. Noooo. But I went along. Upon arrival at the brew fest, we each get a cup that will hold a 3 oz. of beer and 15 tasting tickets.
Some quick math reveals that fifteen 3 oz samples is 45 ounces total, which is barely three beers. That comes out to $10/pint. Insanity! What a rip! Dumb brew fest, dumb friends, we should be drinking pitchers right now in a bar. We should be at home with a case. This is crazy.
But: 45 oz is a lot. It’s so very much.
The beers are high-alcohol microbrews and somehow mixing them all up in your stomach and adding sunshine and crowds of people means you get drunk, quick. So quick. I can’t believe I have six more tickets to use, quick. I can’t even put another 3 ounces of cider into my body, quick. And when you’re drunk, lines and crowds and sun are kind of fun, actually. Isn’t that the most beautiful view you’ve ever seen? Isn’t humanity amazing? Look at us all, different backgrounds, different lives, coming together for fun together (actually everyone looked alike because it was Vermont, but you can imagine that in a more diverse city it would be a moving sight).
We each had between four and six tickets left as the sun started to set and we decided we were done. We tried to give them to each other, but no one could stomach another ounce. We stumbled to dinner, and seven people ate for $99 (dinner is so cheap when no one orders drinks). Brew fest. Genius. Will go again.