Sunday, December 13, 2009
On the fourth day of Christmas my true love gave to me Four Pints of Beer, Three Frenchmen, Two Sausages and Lubomir Visnovsky.
We have a bag with about one hundred Christmas bows in it and the baby is working hard here, bringing them to me from the living room, one by one.
I don't get out as much as I used to, at all. After hockey we'll generally get out for a pint or two but I'm either driving or have a driver and so its a short night. As for really tying one on, well those nights are far and few between, almost always reserved for nights on the Island or when my inlaws are visiting. Our last time out where we really fired them back was a surprise birthday get together I had for my wife, twenty five friends meeting at a bar for drinks. We ended up downtown at a hotel and were able to get a sleep in. This was nearly two months ago and before that it was in July, a pub crawl across Charlottetown that ended at four a.m. in a boat on the harbour.
When you have little kids you can't really justify missing a day becaue you've had too many beers.
These days the highlight of my social calendar is the once or twice monthly nights out at a pub with a friend or two. And on those nights, I have found, I drink four pints. No more, no less.
Its a wonderful number really. You can take your time and drink them over hours or you can fire them back quickly. I remember one time when my oldest was a toddler and my wife was pregnant with the boy, as usual our lives were quite busy and I had a friend who had become the father of twins a few months beforehand. It was late May, one of those first glorious warm sunny days that lets us know that summer is coming. We hadn't gotten out in months and we've been getting around for nearly twenty five years now so it was a bit of a hard case, anyhow, out of the blue he calls and says he has a window, can I do it, and my wife is sainted when it comes to these things and so I trotted down to the Communist Bar and we shook hands and we sat down and just over an hour later we headed home, four pints heavier.
I got home and my wife said that after we had our daughter in bed that maybe I could run down and get some fish and chips from the neighbourhood takeaway and I said that unfortunately I could not as I just had had four pints very quickly and was a little drunk. (I stand about five nine maybe.) Meanwhile my buddy got home where his wife accused him of being drunk to which he replied that it was impossible, he had only been out for an hour and that the pint he had just had had hit him a little hard, that is all, how many pints do you think a guy can drink in an hour anyways?
So twice in the past couple of weeks I have been out and twice I have had four pints. The perfect number. Space them out over three hours and have a glass of water at the pub and one at home and even getting to bed at one you're okay to get up five or six hours later and get to work, no harm done. With four you can have one of a type and then one of another and then finish up with whatever hits the spot that night. You ease into that first and then the second and you get that slow warm boozy feeling, not too jumpy or excited, just nice and easy, the conversation flowing, looking at the pretty girls, enjoying the evening and then handshakes and out into the warm summer's night or the silent snow falling, walking home in a slight daze or swaying on the subway car.
Posted by Black Dog at 9:45 AM