I like beer. I mean, really, who doesn’t. Aside from those douche bags who would rather sip on a Lavender Sapphire Collins while listening to alt country feeling trendily ironic. But, like Steelers fans and philosophy majors, they don’t really count as people.
So after finally turning 21 and getting an apartment, my roommates and I decided to sample all of the delicious, sudsy, diverse, malty, hopsy, wobbly, tipsy, helps-you-make-poor-choices-or-maybe-just-the-choices-you-wanted-to-make-all-along-but-just-needed-that-extra-push goodness Athens, Ohio, has to offer. As of now, we have 70 76 83 108 123 different beer bottles lining the top of our kitchen cabinets.
And it’s a learning experience for me. I started out not knowing what hops were, and now I’m trying my hand at homebrewing. So it’s a quest not just in the epic Beowulfian sense (though my wallet begs to differ), but also in the good old academic sense as I educate myself about what makes a better beer.
