Just about every beer drinker I know has a favorite vessel from which they quench their thirst. Whether it be an old ceramic stein, a tall pilsner emblazoned with their favorite team’s logo or souvenir from some tropical paradise, everyone has their go-to-glass.
This is my glass. There are many like it but this one is mine. My glass is my best friend. It is my life. I must master it as I must master my life. Without me, my glass is useless. Without my glass I am useless… Adapted from “Full Metal Jacket”
Mine is a simple, understated pint glass that I rescued from near death 6 or 7 years ago. My buddy and I were at a local establishment down the road from our college, enjoying pints of Piccadilly Porter (I’m unsure of the brewer). As the server returned with another round, one of the glasses on the tray tumbled to the ground, spilling black gold across the wood floor.
After safely setting the rest of the beers on the table they recovered the glass, a large chip from its base had broken off rendering it unfit for future use. Oh, it still held beer just fine, but I presume the liability of having a customer cut themselves on the pint far outweighed its usefulness. I volunteered my services in its “disposal.”
Since then, my glass and I have been in the thick of battle, trading fire with some of the best (and worst) beers we could get our hands on. There have been challengers to its place at my side — most notably a recently purchased Duvel chalice and an old Bass Ale tankard. While those attempts may be valiant and often, they always seem to fall short in the end.
What can I say? It’s a fine glass.
