Is hate winning? My friends discuss it.

I have done a whole lot of craft breweries a
solid by cropping them out of this picture.
MPP Stan Cho, on the left, attended a get-
together on the weekend with the Ontario
Craft Brewers association to talk about any
number of issues. Mostly access to product.
Sam Oosterhoff, right, also attended because
the meeting was at Bench Brewing and he is
their MPP. That caused an issue or twelve.

The first and really only time I had heard of Glanbrook-Niagara MPP Sam Oosterhoff, I was - where else? - in Las Vegas. At the tender age of 21, he announced that he hoped abortions would become illegal again in Canada.

Okay, here's my take on abortions. I have no uterus... thus my opinion is irrelevant. (But if you actually wanted my opinion - and I see no reason why you would - I'm pro-choice.) I have a much stronger stand on castration, mind you, and that is: "That sounds like it would hurt so no. But as Bob Barker would say, spay and neuter your pets."

As I said, I was in Vegas. Someone posted it on Twitter and I simply retweeted it, noting, "Why is it every time I leave Canada, the loonies come out to play?" Not an exact quote. Words to that effect. And, no, I didn't mean Canadian currency.

I then promptly forgot Sam Oosterhoff existed. And then I remembered him again this past weekend. Not for a good reason. You see, a bunch of craft brewers got together with MPP Stan Cho, the parliamentary assistant to the Finance Minister (so kind of the #2 Finance Minister) to talk shop. Open access to their product. Getting a leg up in the marketplace. Business stuff that business people have to do with the government. Sounds kinda gross and icky. Probably is. I'm not a business person so I wouldn't know. However, because the meeting was held in Beamsville at Bench Brewing, the local MPP joined in. That would be Sam Oosterhoff. And lemme tell you this for free, he's a lightning rod for controversy because of his beliefs.

Okay, there's two people in this one. One is young(ish), brown, gay and
way hipper than the other. But the old guy? He goes to Las Vegas a lot so
it's not like he's un-fun. Anyway, the young hip one is Trishan, my senior
fulltimer at our place of business. The old guy with the Hulk Hogan? He
is a moron. Seriously. Know him well. Humongous moron. BUT I will say
this about him. He just wants people to be happy. That's his big thing.

You see, he goes a little bit beyond abortion. He also believes that same-sex marriages should not exist because, and I am quoting here, it's "disrespectful to mothers and fathers." How any two people loving each other is disrespectful to anyone at all in this or any other universe is beyond me. But I do know my mother, who's 89, has no issue with it. Hell, she's in full support. (How bad have things gotten when an 89-year-old woman is more in touch with society's wants and needs than a 22-year-old man? But I digress.)

I, personally, as a man who has been married and divorced twice, also support same sex marriage. Why? The easy answer is love is love is love. The honest answer? If there was ever a TV show called "Gay Divorce Court," I would watch the shit out of that. Don't sneer. This is how we learn about others.

If this image makes you at all uncomfortable, all I can
say is never go to Vegas. I have seen men kiss men. I
have seen women kiss women. I have seen women kiss
men. Actually, I've pretty much seen everything there.
And I don't even gamble. I go for the beer. And to get
away from some crazy old lady that I'm in charge of.
Long story short, love comes in every shape and size.

So anyway, the whole Sam Oosterhoff meets the craft brewers thing was all over Twitter on the weekend. Why? Because whether it's true or not, craft beer drinkers like to think we're inclusive of all. That's probably not the case. Okay, it's definitely not the case. But we're working on that. But including Oosterhoff in the picture? Kind of the opposite of inclusive.

And Twitter exploded. Remember when Ellen (you don't need her last name because I can't spell it and everyone knows her) hosted the Oscars and they did a celebrity selfie in the audience that crashed Twitter? Yeah, like that. Except with poorer people.

One caught my eye because I was guilty with regard to what she was saying. The author was Robin LeBlanc. In Ontario (and perhaps beyond) she is a well-known beer author (two books with Jordan St John - perhaps more - I suck at Math) and apparently, quite an accomplishment photographer. We have met once but we're not exactly besties. I mean, we've met once. But she asked about my son, David. So I like her for that.

This is our Prime Minister Justin Trudeau. He
is happy to march with the Gay Pride Parade
because his old man, a fellow named Pierre,
that I am old enough to remember, once said
that the nation had no place in the bedrooms
of Canadians. But if they could tidy it up a bit?

Anyhow, we're pretty much polar opposites. She is young (early-30s), gay and has faced discrimination. I am old, white, straight and have faced sweet-eff-all. So she was talking on Twitter and said it was staggering how many guys didn't know who Oosterhoff was. The reason being simply his trajectory does not cross mine. But if you're gay, like my coworker Trishan or Robin (both sides of the coin), it does. Very much so. Robin says that you have to "contrast that with the LGBTO+ folks and women who definitely know who he is because he wants to remove their rights."

She gave "straight white dudes" a pat on the back because at least we're talking about it. "Dudes are learning and they want to be better." But I foolishly tread into the deep end without my floaters, admitted that I knew of him, not the whole story but I researched him a little and asked her, "How did he get elected?"

"Because, quite frankly, hate is winning," came her response. *Mic drop* Obama out. Seacrest out. Everyone out. (Seriously, get the hell out. I'm not running a hostel. But, Barack? Anytime, man. Let's do beers. If some of your cool rubs off on me, I would not be unhappy.) So, back to Robin. Is hate winning? I went to three people to ask. My co-worker Trishan and a couple of oldie goldies that I will introduce you to in a minute or so.

Okay, the lovely lady on the right is Amanda. She often
travels with Trishan (they are pretty much best friends as
far as I can tell) and his collection of lunatic buddies. But
when in Vegas and Mexico, these two give the appearance
of being a couple. I personally don't think he could do that
well if he was straight but that's another story. Anyway,
these two grifters float into jewelry stores, pretend they
are a couple and make store staff go insane. She'll look
at the most expensive jewelry, he'll say, "Whatever you
want, honey" and it gets very Pretty Woman from there.
That is my favourite Amanda-Trishan story hands-down

So I asked Trishan, is hate winning? His answer came quickly. "Yes." Okay, that was fast. Why? He related a story to me. On this last weekend, one of these Christian groups decided they wanted to have a little march in Toronto's "Village." The Village, according to Trishan, is where a number of Toronto gays live. Church Street and somewhere. It is safe, it is a sanctuary, there is no judgement there. (Well, mostly true. Trishan has told me gay people can be as judgy and preachy as straight people. From everything he has told me, our similarities far outweigh our differences.)

So anyway, the gay community there decides it will counter-protest the Christians. Looking like an ugly scene. Potentially. But, and I now love him for this, Toronto Mayor John Tory steps in and says he will be there too. Standing with the gay community. Because you know what the Toronto Mayor brings with him? That would be police presence. Funny how people back down when cops are around. So Trishan told me, the whole thing - Christians very deliberately demonstrating in a place that is considered gay sanctuary - fizzled out. I'm pretty glad to hear that. Trishan is my friend. Has been for 20 years. You want him? Come through me first. Anything that's left of you - and it won't be much - can then deal with Trishan. He's probably stronger than me. But I suspect he fights fairly. I'll take a metal pipe to a bastard.

Okay, this fugly bastard is Steve. I met Steve
when I was 14 and we're friends. As a black
dude in Oakvile, he has had a few challenges.
But to answer your obvious question, yes, he
has always had a fan growing out of the back
of his head. A black thing? No, a Steve thing.

Okay, that's Trishan. We almost always get along. Except when we don't. Sometimes he gets mad at me because, well, I'm not the best worker. What he doesn't realize is that he gets a better Worker Donny than most have. Not because he's gay or anything. I could give a shit. Because I'm a "peace at any cost" guy and his whining is as annoying AF. He'll appreciate me some day. Or not. Doesn't matter. I like him. And I'll take a pipe to any bastard who's mean to him. That's really the most important thing.

So lemme go back a little further. I mean, Trishan is good and all but I am old. I have known more people in my life. Let's start with Steve. To be honest, Steve was my first black friend. I met him when I was 14 or so and I think we've been friends since. At that time, he was the only black dude I knew. There weren't a lot in Oakville. He was a super terrific athlete, he was as popular as hell and I was just happy he numbered me among his friends. Like Trishan, as you can see, this jerkwad has a perfect set of teeth. They're effing A-holes. Both of them.

So I asked Steve: Is hate winning? Okay, let's put ALL the cards on the table here. Steve and I grew up as teenagers in the 1970s. It was a slightly more tolerant time but only because we had just come out of the 1960s. Steve, did you face prejudice back then?

Okay, this is Hannah, Steve's daughter. This young
lady is so stunningly beautiful (again with the perfect
teeth) that when I met her all I could say was: "I have
seen you on Facebook. Your Dad really loves you..."

"Yes, I did back then from strangers and others." Ouch, not a good start. But as Robin believes, is hate winning? Or is it better now?

"I'm gonna say no. I think there is more social awareness and tolerance but it (racism) is still here. It has been more covert until the Trump and Ford era so they (those on the far right) get more air-time now."

Not getting any better here. But is there hope? "I think our children are possibly at the start of bridging some of the hate gap among cultures, not just black and white. Soon it will be hard for any generation to say they haven't had interaction with another cultural (or differently skin) coloured group. So that should be a good thing."

And life as a black person with ridiculously good teeth, what's that like? "I do carry myself day-to-day as a black guy. Things could be and are a little different for me. It's hard to change a belief system. Oppression (and) hatred run deep into a person's belief system (because) it's been around for 1,000 years."

So hatred is winning then, Steve?

I dunno, man. The white guy is
going all in for the hug here. The
black dude? Half an arm up at
best. Come on, man, work it. Oh,
it's something I pulled off Google.
Probably not relevant or anything.

"It's here. It's probably not winning but it's flexing its muscles somewhat because of the political climate."

Though as a cautionary note, he finished his statement. "But it's here and very dangerous."

This is how people who are not white feel every day. This is how people who are not straight feel every day. This is how women feel every day. The world is not always a safe place for them.

I wake up every morning and drag a brush through the bush-weed I call my hair. I never think, "Is this the day I will be attacked for my skin colour?" Or "Is this the day I will be belittled because I love someone who is my gender?" Or... and I truly hate this one (Okay, I hate them all but this is half the population) ... "Is this the day someone will tell me what I can and cannot do with my uterus?"

Now I have one more high school friend named Aruna that I was going to include here. She's brown and married a white dude. Apparently, in high school, I ran with the cool kids. She felt excluded. I did not know that. I suspect none of us did. Turns out life is not a 1980s John Hughes' "Are you a cool high school kid or not" movie. But I love her story so much that screw it, she gets her own column. I'm not entirely sure that will fix anything from the past. I can't change that. But maybe I can alter it now. Let's see how I do.

A shiny day... tarnished by anger

I posted this picture of my absolute favourite
person, Lady Polkaroo, with Troy Burtch, the
social media spokesguy for Great Lakes Brewing
early in the day. The response was, well, a little
different than I expected. But let's carry on.

My Sunday, September 29th of the year 2019 started off pretty good. I was on my way to the Southern Ontario Beer Boys' now annual Brewers' Ball. First one was last year. I was at that one, too. It's a lot of fun but mostly, it's for a good cause. Proceeds from the event go to the McMaster's Hospital Sick Children's wing.

(Not to sound obtuse but technically, every hospital has a Pediatric ward. Hence, they're ALL sick kids' hospitals. But I digress.)
But as I was leaving my cozy Oakville house to head down to Cameron's Brewing so I could grab some beer for the prize table, the Ontario Craft Brewers association posted a picture.

It was with a couple of Tory MPPs, Stan Cho and Sam Oosterhoff, and it was all about opening up hours for craft breweries to sell their beer. Instead of closing at 9 pm, they will now be allowed to close at midnight. (Not sure that's actually necessary but okay...) The meeting between the OCB, the breweries and the two MPPs was held at Bench Brewing in Beamsville.

This will become relevant in less than a minute or so, depending on how quickly you read.

That's MPP Stan Cho on the left. Might be a
nice guy. I don't know. But that tall drink of
sewer water on the right? Yeah, that's MPP
Sam Oosterhoff. He's a piece of shit. This
youngster, who just turned 22 yo, has decided
he knows what's best for women and is now
insisting abortions be outlawed. I said "piece
of shit" right? Go to the childrens' table, Sam.

Now Stan Cho? Wouldn't know him if I tripped over him. And if he frequents the same bars as I do, that's a possibility. The worse thing I read about this second-generation Korean-Canadian chap is that "he's not always accessible" through his Willowdale office. Well, he's a Tory. I'd be pretty inaccessible, too. Who wants to answer Doug Ford questions all day? ("Yes, ma'am, he used to sell drugs in high school. No, ma'am, I don't know why the Province is now losing money selling drugs. Yes, I agree. That doesn't make sense.")

But young Sam Oosteroff? Well, this kid's a work of art... and I don't mean that in the Mona Lisa way. Young Sam ("Can I call you Young Sam? Shut the f**k up, Junior. I don't remember asking you a goddamn thing!") has decided that abortions should become a thing of the past. And here's the thing. Discussions of such nature already are a thing of the past. Those discussions go back to 1969, long before Young Sam was born, when the country we live in legalized it. For the record, our country of record is Canada, not Arkansas or Alabama.

Young Sam, this shit was settled long ago by politicians who would be your grandparents' age now. So pipe the f**k down, Squeaky. Oh, he also hates the gay community.

However... and this is where things get sticky and I mean "jam on your hands" sticky... the OCB wanted a photo op to thank the Queen's Park rogues for opening up their sales hours. They chose to do so at Bench Brewing in Beamsville. Some brewery owners we know and love took part in said photo op. And that's when the spam hit the fan.

These two no-good-niks, Drunk Polkaroo and Sam
from Sawdust City Brewing, actually did some good
yesterday, braving the very chilly weather to get into
the Dunk Tunk for charity at the Southern Ontario
Beer Boys' fundraiser for McMaster Sick Kids.

Ontario craft beer drinkers, in no small amount, were outraged. Men and women alike railed against the photo and the people within that photo. And let's face it, women and the LGBTQ folks have far more at stake here. And I do agree. The only way I would be in a photo with Young Sam is if I had him in a Full Nelson and he was kissing the cold hard concrete with his young nose. But that's just me. My young son has taught me not to hate anyone so the most I can confess to is disliking Young Sam. Intensely disliking.

But every movement, whether driven by anger, pride or moral outrage, can spill over to other things. And here's where it did.

We are at a charity event, helping out, volunteering and the Twitterverse was suddenly plastering our event with the politics of that photo op. The good thing we were doing was getting tarnished on Twitter with a not-good thing that had nothing to do with us.

The first photo I posted from the day was of my good friend, Kat, aka Lady Polkaroo and Troy Burtch, the social media dude from Great Lakes Brewing. The first response to the picture came from a friend.

Violetta and Steve Hukari (of Southern Ontario Beer
Boys) worked pretty hard at pulling the fund-raising
event together. The morning after, I hope they feel good
about what their group accomplished. I know it felt
tarnished yesterday but that doesn't make the event
any less noble. Money was raised for a good cause.

A friend who is passionately opposed to the Conservative government presently in charge. Truth to tell, I feel the same way. Minus the passion. Politics robbed me of that 20 some years ago (which takes us back to dislikes. Intensely.)

He wondered how Troy felt about his boss, Peter, being in a picture with a homophobic, anti-women fellow such as Young Sam. And here's the thing. I didn't ask Troy. He wasn't in the picture. His boss was. That has nothing to do with Troy. It's very much treading on a "For the sins of my father" quagmire here.

Now before I continue, let me clarify the relationship I have with Troy. The guy basically worships the ground I walk upon. That's a little embarrassing because we're the same. My butler puts my pants on one leg at a time... just like everyone else. And on my end? I think Troy is... y'know, okay. He hasn't killed any hobos as far as I know. So he's got that going for him.

BUT... and that's a capital B but - when the Doug Ford government was pushing buck-a-beer not so long ago, guess who was on TV, pushing back? That would be Troy. He was only speaking for Great Lakes Brewing on TV but in reality, he was speaking passionately for all Ontario craft brewers. And frankly, he did a fantastic job of it. He was a voice of reason.

There are bigger fights in the world than the Province and how craft
breweries do and don't relate to said government. For instance, I got
to meet Drunk Polkaroo's folks yesterday. Papa Arsenault is fighting
his own battle these days. Against cancer. He had an operation but it
looks like he'll be back for at least two more. Will he beat the beastly
disease? Of course, he will. He's Drunk Polkaroo's old man. Think of
what he had to put up with when Rob was growing up. Tough old goat.

I think that may have been forgotten yesterday so I'm just here to remind you. Troy is not the enemy in this battle. He is a friend. He is an ally. And he is the guy I would trust with my butler.

But this brings us nicely and neatly to a bigger question. How much responsibility do we bear for our employers? The ones who sign our cheques. I say zero and here's why.

At my last newspaper, I had a boss named Stephen. He was the publisher. British chap. Great sayings that were, by and large, unfamiliar to North Americans. He would ask me as his editor, "Are they playing Silly Buggers with us?" whenever a shiftless politician hedged on something. "Silly buggers." Still makes me smile.

When Toni Shelton, left, the social media pro and big old
Ray of Sunshine for Collective Arts Brewing, found out
that Hamilton artist-cartoonist David Buist was there,
she ask if I could arrange an introduction. You see, some
of David's art will soon be on a brewery can so we're all
a little pumped about that. So Toni, meet artist David. 

But here's the thing and this is where I'd prefer not to wear the "For the sins of my father" cloak. Every once in a while, I would hear him on the phone. And he said more than once to whomever was on the other end, "You know, not all of Hitler's idea were bad..." I was mortified. I told him repeatedly that he couldn't - or at least shouldn't - say that. But he didn't stop saying stuff like that right up until the day the paper closed its doors for good in 2012. Yes, my last newspaper boss thought Hitler did some good things. And I hope and pray to this day that he actually meant Das Fuhrer got the trains running on schedule.

Now at that time, would I have worn or taken any responsibility for what my boss said or did? Hell to the no. Neither should Troy. Or my butler. They've done nothing wrong.

But I get that sometimes anger is misplaced or at the very least aimed in the wrong direction. I've done it myself. We all have.

Like anyone else, the people at Ontario craft breweries are not responsible for what their bosses say and do any more than the guy or woman on the Ford assembly line is responsible for how his foreman votes in an election.

This is how I prefer to remember my day ending. With
one of the prettiest and most genuine smiles I saw on a
long day filled with acrimony. This whole tourney was
about charity and not politics. Her smile puts back some
polish on a tarnished day. And I truly thank her for that.

So, if you're pissed about something connected to the Ontario craft beer industry, by all means, take it out on the brewery if you so desire. But don't take it out on the people toiling there. They're just Joes and Janes like the rest of us, trying to make a buck

Hell, I wake up in fevered anticipation of checking out Twitter every morning to see who we're boycotting today. It's a jolly good sport.

But we all showed up yesterday for charity and frankly, a pretty damn good one. Last year, the first year of the Brewers Ball, we raised about $1,100. This year, Steve suggested to me yesterday, we might be pushing over $3,000. Maybe, in the grand scheme of things, that's not a huge chunk of change.

But again, in the grand scheme of things, there's a lot of bad stuff out there that we can't change. And for one day, we focused on something we could change. I'll take that.

Ottawa Part Deux: Shit gets real...

This is where we spent Friday night upon arriving in Ottawa.
Matty had a couple of breweries planned but we were all so
comfortable here that we said, "Screw it" and just stayed put!
It became the meeting place for those drifting into Ottawa.

Getting to Ottawa from Oakville is easy. Drive along Highway 401, turn north when the highway signs tell you "Going to Ottawa? Turn left, clueless driver."

So a month ago, I got to Ottawa, no problem. I just listened to the wrong sign. I took Highway 15 North. I should have waited until Highway 416 North. What's the difference? Hwy 15 North is a two-lane country highway. Very scenic, I suppose, if that's your thing. Hwy 416 North, on the other hand, is a split four-lane highway that offers little scenery beyond rocks, fields and trees because who cares? I'm not going antique shopping at some rickety-ass barn. I'm driving to meet the 613 Ottawa Brew Crew for some good, old-fashioned drinking.

The problem is the little highway takes you through the downtown of Smith Falls, a place with which I am oddly familiar and continues on through the country-side on a windy two-lane road. Issue? About three of us were caught behind an OPP cruiser. Every 20 kilometres or so, a centre lane opens up so you can pass slower vehicles.

Adam Marsh, the head brewer at Orleans Brewing, on the right. "Okay,
listen carefully! You put your left foot in, you put your left foot out, you
put your left foot in and then you shake it all about." Josh Hayter, owner
of Spearhead Brewing, left: "And I thought my brewers were crazy." No,
actually, Adam was awesome on the tour, showing us all the little tricks!

Think any of us had the balls to pass the cop? I was immediately behind him and lagged enough so the other cars came between me and the cop. All it would take is one guy to cautiously pass the cop, get away with it and then we all could. Uh, that would be a big no. So all of us were stuck behind him, doing 65 km/h in a 60 zone. For nearly an hour! Meanwhile over on Hwy 416, I'm sure they were all doing a buck-20. And getting to Ottawa way faster than me.

As for getting to my hotel, the Hampton Inn, well, I kinda overshot that. I had my Google Maps on and it did show the hotel but didn't name the exit street. I was pulled over on the highway, trying to figure it out. Nope, no sir. Eventually, when I realized I was headed to Montreal, I doubled back and a nice lady at a gas station helped me.

Paul, left, seems distracted by something in the brewing area of Orlean's
Brewing. I know that look. "I wondered which one of these fermenting
tanks has got the Double IPA?" Meanwhile, Matty, Joel and Josh are all
paying attention in class. Brewer Adam was a pretty good instructor for
all things beer while we were there. He also sat down and drank with us!

Eventually, I found the place and after several tries of the room key not working, I even got into my room. Shortly thereafter, Matty and Joel texted me to met them in front of the Marriott, where Josh, the owner of Spearhead Brewing, was staying. Our two hotels were a minute apart, connected by the Ottawa Convention Centre.

So after viewing him on video, I finally got to see Josh beyond the confines of the internet. "It's nice to finally meet you in person," he said, shaking my hand. If I had a buck for everyone who's met me, said that and then later wished they could take it back, well, I would have flown to Ottawa. In a private charter plane.

So the four of us all hopped into Matty's ride (he, Joel and Ben are all about 25 minutes out of the city in different directions) and off we went to Orlean's Brewing in, well, Orleans.

Before they came to pick up Josh and myself, Matty and Joel were
having a wobbly at Big Rig Brewing around the corner from our
two hotels. You may remember this scene from June 1st where the
brewery cleared everyone but employees out so that Prime Minister
Justin Trudeau and Barack Obama could share a quiet beer. I really
liked Obama. Always considered him the coolest/best President ever.

Actually, along the way, Matty pointed out the back of Ben's house, just minutes from the brewery. Ben had to opt out of Friday night activities for Daddy reasons (we all understand that) to open up his freebie Saturday with the guys.

Once at the brewery, we were greeted warmly by owners Celia and Yann Lemieux. In fact, the greeting for Josh was especially friendly. Seems the couple and Josh go back a while as he has been contracting brewing some of their beers over in Kingston. I suppose that's not too surprising since this bricks-and-mortar facility didn't open until May 11th of this year and I've been seeing their cans, mostly their Smokin' Brown Ale and their Billy Bob Bison Pale Ale, at LCBOs for a while now.

So Yann settled in at the table with John, Matty, Joel and myself and soon enough, we all commenced the drinking and story-telling portion of the evening.

When we were doing the Kichesippi Brewing
tour, Paul did what everyone does. Climbs the
stairs to peer into the tanks. Not sure why we
all do this. The tanks are usually empty. Not
quite sure what we think we're gonna see...

But let me say this first. I'm not used to sitting at a table where it's 40% brewery owners. And lemme tell you something else, if there's one thing craft brewery owners know all too well, it's bureaucratic red tape from City Hall.

From the time they registered their names to finally opening in May, it took them close to three years. Even though they're smack-dab in the middle of industrial-commercial lands, they still faced zoning challenges. (As someone who put in five years at a City Hall, technically they shouldn't have had that headache... but I know for a fact they were gonna anyway, if you follow.) And, of course, construction. And this. And that. Truth is it simply takes that long to get all the various and sundry permission slips from City Hall. As Yann talked about a few of the bigger challenges, I could see Josh out of my peripheral nodding at everything he mentioned. They both know. Likely still have the scars and welts to prove it.

But now with a good chunk of a year under their belt (they unofficially opened in February), they can finally sit back and relax, right? Yeah, just shittin' ya. Celia was on the hustle all night and Josh got pulled into late-night road duty to restock some party they were sponsoring. Just like there is no crying in baseball, there is no relaxing in owning a brewery. But Brewer Adam filled the void at the table and waited for more of the gang to show before taking us on the tour.

Hey, it's Yann The Man! I tell you this. Yann and
Celia (as well as Brewer Adam) made us feel so
comfortable at Orlean's Brewing that while we
had plans to visit other places on Friday night, we
all said, nah, let's just stay here. Eventually, it
became the place we all met up. Just great there!

But at some point, Josh looked at Matty and said, "Look, I've been watching you score these guys beer photos and I can't quit figure out your scoring." So Matty leans back in his chair and starts. "Well, lemme tell you. It's a very complicated algorithm that I..."

(*Record scratches loudly*) Okay, allow me to stop the runaway bullshit train before it leaves the station. Algorithm, my Irish ass. There is no algorithm. I haven't heard words that nonsensical since, I dunno, Miley Cyrus' "Party in the USA." However, and Matty does get full marks for this, what he does when he judges one of our pictures is he puts it under his microscope, looking for the smallest of details. With one of mine, I got bonus marks for a propane tank in the distant background. I was, like, really? But there it was. A random propane tank.

No, what had Josh puzzled was Matty's bonus and deduction points, which I know are made up on the spot. He'll say something like "Bonus marks for the bird-feeder in the background." And you'll check and go, "Shit, there is a bird-feeder!" And then he'll say something full of shit like, "Deduction as a Peregrine Falcon could not fit into the bird-feeder's access hole." And you're like, "No, I guess it wouldn't... wait! What? Why the eff would a falcon use a goddamn bird-feeder?"

But I'll tell you something else for free. A bunch of us have really upped our creativity for beer photos this Summer. I mean, there's no trophy or anything - it's just a fun thing. But fun things have a way of becoming, well, competitions, especially where bonehead guys are involved. While Danny, Glen, Joel and myself have all had our turns atop the leaderboard, Mississauga friend, Paulie G, and Guelph Brew Crew member Curtis have pretty much owned it this Summer. Their beer photos have been phenomenal. I mean, like Drunk Polkaroo level.

And while it seems like a silly game that silly boys are playing, you could slap a few of Curtis' and Paulie's pics in any glossy magazine. And, frankly, that's just good social media advertising for any brewery whose beer and glasses are being enjoyed. Except that it's associated with us. Every situation has its pluses and minuses, I suppose.

This is Carlin at Kichesippi Brewing. Carlin was
institutionalized after guiding our tour. The word
is Carlin is eating solid food again and recognizes
at least two dozen English words. But he howls at
night. Like a coyote. We all wish nothing but the
best for Carlin and his PTSD. He was a good guy.

Anyways, before I was ready to wing off to Sin City, the at-the-time high score atop Judge Matty's leaderboard was Curtis, Danny, Joel, Paulie G, me, Glenn, no, Danny, no wait, Joel, no, it's me.  Probably Paulie G... no, Curtis. Then I left Canada and the Photo Natives ran wild so I don't know anymore. Probably Curtis. His pics were artistic and creative smoke-shows. But man, I have seen some dynamite craft beer and branded glassware photos this Summer. So Matty gets the much-deserved credit there. But he also loses credit for being... you know, Matty. Life is full of checks and balances.

Okay, kicking off the big Saturday tour was Kichesippi Brewing, which apparently moved out of their old digs at the dead-end of an industrial strip (because, hey, think of all the foot traffic... *cough*) and into a former 10,000-square-foot car dealership in Bells Corners area of Ottawa. Okay, this was one dope-ass set-up. All of the old mechanic bays now hold the brewing equipment, offices are still offices and the old showroom? Yeah, that's their tap-room. I shit you not. It's humongous! Pretty much the sexiest lay-out I've seen in an Ontario craft brewery. And the potential to do even more with it? Aye carumba!

Okay, so this young, eager employee named Carlin has to take us on a tour. My Nepean Beer Store Bro Ben has this all set up with brewery owner, Paul Meek.

Courtesy of Beer Bro Glenn, here's me on the Kichesippi
Keggernator Bicycle. Both Paul and I thought of stealing
the bike but realized, shit, pedaling this beast would pretty
much kill us. So we stuck to drinking beers and letting the
newfangled horseless buggies drive us around the town.

Each of the Ottawa guys had their assignments for the weekend. This was Ben's, as he is a buddy of Paul.

(Quick sidebar if I could. Now remember, I have a secret mission on this trip. Adam from Beau's, who worked briefly for Spearhead Josh, told me that he had never seen the man laugh. My secret mission on this Ottawa sojourn? Make Josh laugh!! Did I? Well, you gotta keep reading.)

So anyway, we all assembled in the humongous tap-room as Carlin told us the game-plan. The usual. A walk through the brewery portion of the building until we get back to the showroom to try some samples. Every brewery plays off some kind of variation on that theme. It's tried and true.

Carlin: "Okay, I'd like to thank you all for coming
and just say that this biker-looking dude on my left
is kinda freaking me out a little." Well, our whole
group of nine was kinda spooky looking, I suppose.

At one point, Josh leaned over to me and said, "I think this guy is afraid of us." Still looking at Carlin, I muttered back, "No shit! We look like a biker gang."

And we actually kinda did. Me with my long hair. Josh, Glenn, Paul and Matty with their beards. Ben with his shaved head and chin goat. Danny's from Sudbury so he gives off that I-Carry-An-Ax vibe. Joel looks and sounds like every bouncer in Quebec. And Curtis, well, he... I mean, he totally... okay, Curtis looks like our Parole Officer. Every group has its Brad Pitt, I guess. He's ours.

But did Josh laugh? No, Betsy, he did not. I got a wide smile and an upper body shake... but no laughter. I would keep trying. If Carlin was anything, most likely he was perhaps a little intimidated. I mean, our group was nine craft beer lovers. But breaking that down, there were two home-brewers, three Beer Store employees, two beer bloggers, a part-time craft brewery employee and an actual craft brewery owner. That's a tough crowd to play. And actually, Carlin did a great job. Yeah, he misnamed some of the equipment in the brewing area but his forte is the tap-room and he did a great job there, walking us through their releases and their various flavour profiles.

Trust me, at this point in Glenn's life, he's thrilled if anything
wants to go home with him. Would he prefer a lovely woman?
Yes, absolutely! But hey, beer's a damn good runner-up to him.

But "Man, was Carlin ever afraid of us!" (he wasn't at all) became the day's running joke.

Once people were into their samples and talking in small groups, I did what I always do and wandered away from the pack for a while to go exploring. It's a "Hands In Pockets" policy, though. If an office door's open, walk in, touch nothing, eyes only. At one point, I saw sort of a small photo shrine to a woman named Kelly. So I asked one of the servers about it. Here's where the story gets sad. Kelly was owner Paul's wife and business partner in the brewery. Twenty years ago, she was diagnosed with a neuromuscular disorder, which caused her muscles and nerves to slowly deteriorate. She spend her last 16 years in a wheelchair before finally succumbing in April. But she did get to see the new brewery property just days before she passed. I'm not sure why I'm sharing this except, I guess, to show craft breweries are just like the rest of the world, made up of real people with real-life issues.

"Seriously, guys, stay on the other side of the fence, at
least five feet away from me!" warned Carlin. Actually
he was showing us the outdoor patio, explaining what
area was and wasn't licenced and telling us about their
upcoming Oktoberfest. If you're in the Ottawa area
next month, check out their website for information.

But back to our day, the three big favourites at the brewery, from what I saw, were the Stormy Monday IPA, which I really love, their Corktown Dry Stout, which was all nitro-ed up (in our crowd, nitro anything is a huge draw) and the always-reliable 1855 Amber Ale, one of the Province's best red ales.

We have repeatedly told owner Paul how much fun we had there, continued to beat that "We Sent Carlin To Therapy" dead horse on Twitter and the truth is the brewery kicked off a great day on the right note.

I hadn't made Josh laugh (yet) but dammit, the day was just beginning and in Ottawa, Part Three coming soon (now that I'm back from Vegas), we'll have stops at Beyond The Pale Brewing, Waller St. Brewing, Bicycle Craft Brewing and then ending the night at the big gun, Dominion City Brewing.

And Carlin, a word of advice. If you're making a speech, technically you can't make any mistakes because none of us knows what you're gonna say in the first place. Also we have beers in our hands so none of us really gives a shit. Tell you, dude, it's easy-peasy! But Scooby Doo Gang, that's it, that's all and I am outta here. Until next time, I remain...

I didn't think I'd start this way...

This lady, Dr. J. Jackson-Beckman, ended up, well,
throwing me a curve. I had thought about this blog
and this was NOT what I was thinking about. But
you have to be ready for what life throws you, eh?

"When men make plans, God laughs."

We all know that saying. But it's not the real saying. Not the actual one, anyway. We've just Anglo-ed it over the years. You know, to own it, I guess. Like we try to own a lot of shit that's not really ours.

The actual saying, which has Yiddish roots, is "Mann Tracht, Un Godd Lacht." Same thing, in essence. "Man plans and God laughs."

But this, too, is the nature of life. A couple of months back, I was hanging with my old friend Johnny and I was told by him quite insistently by him that I have to write about more than just craft beer. I have a six-year-old blog called Brew Ha Ha that deals with beer.

This was an old dear friend, smacking me in the face with a fuzzy slipper. (Not literally. I doubt he owns one, much less a pair.) That's where 61 Turning 16 was supposed to begin. With Johnny and his advice. A new venue. Something else to write about (said the former newspaper editor, ending a sentence with a preposition.) Issues that are not-beer-related. So that's where I thought this was gonna start. Talking about Johnny, our long-standing friendship and his surprisingly insistent demand.

I didn't really know what to say about a very racist
attack so I reverted to my fail-safe. My son, David.
When things seem bleak, he walks in and brightens
any and all situations. Apparently, when you're made
of pure love, that's what you're capable of. It's nice.

(Just to take the word "suggestion" off the table.)

So anyway, God laughed. (I am not a religious man. When I say God, I mean the universe.) Someone I follow on Twitter, Afro Beer Chick, who hails from Chicago, was attacked in her private messages by some demented idiot who was overly fond of the n-word. So she posted it. I read it and thought exactly what I have many times since I discovered social media. And that's this: Don't we all wish we could just reach through our screens and just take someone's keyboard away? Or perhaps hit them in the head with it until they wake the hell up?

So anyway, Afro Beer Chick was very cool with it all. Gonna suggest this isn't her first experience with racism because she's likely been dealing with it... (*looks at clock, double-checks calendar*)... okay, let's just say... all her life. She responded overly-politely to this man that perhaps they should sit down together with a beer and discuss their differences. I have my doubts he ever responded. Cowards are notorious that way.

But someone else, a person named Dr. J Jackson-Beckman, saw the attack and decided to turn a negative into a positive.

Except it's not. It never has been. It never will
be and this is way past time when we should
just speak up and say, "This is not acceptable."

She asked all of us in the craft beer community to go on Twitter, describe something about ourselves, post a selfie and simply tag it #IAmCraftBeer. Simply to show unity with someone who had been personally impugned and yet, still handled it like a warrior.

Now, while this was all happening, I was down in Las Vegas, having one of my little fiestas. My friends will tell you that I do this a lot. So one of those friends, Robert, also known as The Drunk Polkaroo, brought this to my attention. I took a look at the context of it all on Twitter, looked around at my Vegas setting, realized that, yeah, as usual, I was surrounded by people of all the various skin hues and cultures, having an awesome time. So write something happy and positive?

I could do that because I never even have to look all that far. I simply grabbed my anchor, a boy named David and made it about him.

The beautiful one is Veronique. The butt-ugly one is my
buddy... brother, really... Matty. Anyway, Veronique is
dealing with something pretty harsh right now. And it all
came to light with a simple hashtag - #IAmCraft Beer. 

I said simply, "Okay, I'm down. I'm Donny. In Vegas at the moment. Nothing special about me. But I have a special needs son, David. Down syndrome. He loves everyone. That's his nature. He has never known hatred, only unconditional love. I hope I'm the same. Because that's how he brought me up."

The Twitter response kind of (what was it my grandfather used to say... oh right...) flabbergasted me. Let's just say it was overwhelmingly (and I don't 'whelm' easily) positive. But, of course, even though I was one of the first ones out of the gate with Dr. J's request, I forgot to add the hashtag #IAmCraftBeer. So I did subsequently which, I think, includes it. A natural defence would be to say, hey, man, I'm in Vegas. What do you want from me? But the actual truth is, well, I'm an idiot and can't follow the simplest of instructions.

Long story short, Dr. J's tweet got a lot of responses. Thousands, I would guess. A great majority were white males. That's also good. It's important to know that some of us aren't, well, assholes of the first order.

But another response was the one that caught my eye and kinda stuck a knife through my heart. It was from my friend and brother-from-another-mother, Matty. I have written about Matty in that beer blog. But this isn't that blog. Matty responded by talking about three things. His daughter, who he described as a princess. (I've seen her picture on Facebook - a total cutie-patootie.) Concerns about drinking. (We all share that to varying degrees.) But mostly his wife, Veronique. You see, she's going through her second battle with cancer. Had it a few years ago. Fought it with chemo and radiation. Beat it, too.

It came back this year. I talked to Matty and he told me she's doing the radiation three times a week, every three weeks. So she has good weeks and then her completely horrible ones. Like racism, that's not an acceptable reality.

The thing is that one simple hashtag - #IAmCraftBeer - brought a lot of stuff to light... to life. People like me spoke from the heart. People like Matty, well, they spoke from the soul. But we all spoke up, which was kind of the point of the exercise.

The words of Elie Wiesel, the Romanian-born Jewish-
American, best known as being an author, a professor,
a social activist, a Nobel Laureate and most important
of all, a Holocaust survivor. We can't make that mistake
again. We're seeing it now. We know the history. We
have to know that inclusion is everything. It's really
quite literally the only way we'll all survive. I've picked
so time to pick yours. Be on the right side of history.

So here's my final thought. Sometimes, your friends are people you've known all your life like Johnny. Over 50 years.

Sometimes, they're new friends like Matty who I met this past April for the first time.

And sometimes, friends are people you've never met like Afro Beer Chick and Dr. J but you realize you simply share a mutual agreement about life. About what is and isn't proper behaviour and how we should live together, rather than apart.

That's it, I guess. Like I said, I was going to open this with the story of Johnny and how this started. It's a story that can wait for another day.

And Veronique, like I said, I'm not a religious man but I know someone who is. His name is David. And when I pick him up this weekend, I'm going to ask him to put in a good word. Because if anyone on this planet could whisper directly into God's ear, it's David. And, well, keep fighting. We're all on your side. The same goes for you, Afro Beer Chick. I'll make sure David includes you, too.

Ottawa Part One: Friends become family

Most of their faces were familiar in the 613 Ottawa Brew Crew Craft
Brewery Invasion last weekend. From left to right, Glenn, Curtis, Ben,
Joel, Josh, Paul, Matty and Danny. Many of us had first met at the
Huntsville Brewhouse where we made (with a lot of help) the famous
Bucket List IPA. But there were a few newcomers - Ben, Josh and Paul.

As in pretty much every aspect of life, one thing leads to another. I have never really believed in coincidences. My thinking is that nearly all things are inter-woven.

Lest that sound too New Age-y, The Universe Will Guide Us claptrap for you, let me just reassure the masses - I am talking about beer, good great craft beer here, not some metaphysical bullshit. Ain't nobody got time for that!

But allow me to present the facts as I see them. A bunch of us - 13 in total - got together to create a beer at the Huntsville Brewhouse back in April. Shortly after, two of those Brew Crew participants decide to create an Ottawa Craft Brewery Day.

My man, Newmarket Beer Store Bro Paul, shown here at
Kichesippi Brewing ready to steal that bicycle-keg combo
(which had no beer in it so mission aborted) was ON FIRE
with the quips, the jokes and the disses all day Saturday.
Man, he may have had more fun than anyone! Great time!

Coincidence? I think not. One thing almost always leads to another. Huntsville led to Ottawa. I am convinced of it. However, I am also convinced if I continue to work at it, I'll develop telekinesis, whereby I will be able to lift up cars, trucks and tanks... just by using the power of my incredible mutant mind!!! It could happen. You don't know.

We were missing some from the Huntsville adventure - Hamilton Craft Beer Couple, Homebrewer Graeme, Hamilton Artist-Cartoonist David and Barrie Beer Bro Hago - but we gained some new ones in Ottawa - Newmarket Beer Store Bro Paul, Nepean Beer Store Bro Ben and Spearhead Brewing owner Josh. So that's more or less Even-Steven. The rest of the cast remained the same.

But... I dunno... to me, it was like something bigger happened in Ottawa, too. You see, in Huntsville, many of us were meeting for the first time. And honestly, even though we had only previously chatted on Twitter, we all became fast friends when we met in person. This time, in Ottawa, it seemed to become something different.

"Goddammit, Donny, I said 'No paparazzi!!' Put
that weird-ass old camera down!" Yeah, so sorry,
Matty, I don't listen to Satan-spawned Habs fans.
With Maple Leafs, Habs and Ottawa Senators
fans all in the group, there was plenty of hockey
burns and chirps on the day. But no fist-fights.

This time - again, to me, anyway - there was a strong element of becoming, well, like family. You know how we all have those groups outside actual family that you none-the-less consider to be family? Yeah, I kinda think that's what happened here. I'm not sure if the others felt the same way but lemme tell you why that doesn't matter.

You see, this time, it was ALL guys. And if we're family, that means we're brothers. You ever see the actual dynamic between brothers? Insults fly. Burns, well, burn. Disses devastate. Occasionally, fists fly. (Not here, of course.) Basically, your entire life is running them down, belittling them the best you can. But at the end of the day? You'd do anything for them.

So if the other guys didn't get the family vibe that I did? Screw 'em. I'm the oldest, anyway, so they're just little brother pests. I say that, of course, with brotherly affection. (Also, Mom says none of you guys were planned!!! Way to be, you birth accidents!! Best part of you guys probably dribbled down Dad's leg!)

So you get the idea. Even the three new-comers were in on the chirps, particularly Josh and Paul. (Ben drove for a good portion of the day and couldn't imbibe the tasty malts-and-hops nectars quite to our level, which was, of course, beyond reason. Also, it's the law, as well as good old-fashioned common sense so...)

Friday Night when some were just slowly drifting into Ottawa from all
points across the Province, I was already at Orleans Brewing, enjoying
many a wobbly with Spearhead owner Josh, Ottawa Joel, Orleans'
owner Yann and Ottawa Matty. Josh is holding up - I shit you not - a
cup of bacon. "Bacon: Because arteries don't just harden on their own."

Curtis had spent the Friday night in Cornwall, visiting his sister and man, did he get jeered for that. All I know about Cornwall is it's pretty much the last Ontario town on the 401 before you hit Quebec. So really, I couldn't participate.

But to hear the guys diss it, you'd come to learn that the town of 47,000 have banned corn-on-the-cob because between them all, there have only 47,000 teeth. That your Mom is somehow also your aunt. And possibly your grandmother. One of the guys relayed the tale of asking a travel person the best hotel to spend a night in Cornwall and was told to keep driving to Kingston. And here's the thing. Curtis lives in Guelph and somehow found himself holding the goats' horns for Cornwall. But that's how brothers are. Just brutal.

To see a table quite literally filled with Dominion
City Sunsplit IPA - it was available on tap but
wasn't in retail - well, that's a beauty sight. Here,
in a Glenn picture, Danny looks at them in glee.

With fans of the Montreal Canadians, Toronto Maple Leafs and Ottawa Senators all in the wolf-pack, well, NHL rivalries were a gimme for this day. Matty and Danny very deliberately wore their Montreal jerseys on Saturday. As we were gathering, Josh very casually sauntered up, took one look at them and said, "Why would they make a jersey with a toilet seat on it? Who the hell would want something like that?" Toronto's repeated losses to the Boston Bruins in the first round of the playoffs two years running also came up maybe once, twice, probably 1,700 times. I think a few of them found it both hilarious and fascinating that with young thoroughbreds such as Auston Matthews and Mitch Marner on the bench in the waning moments of a crucial match, Leafs coach Mike Babcock thought, "Hey, you know who I should sent out there? I think 39-year-old Patrick Marleau is our man!!" (I'm still face-palming that.)

Oddly, the one guy who escaped hockey wrath was Joel, an Ottawa Senators fan. Why? Well, his team finished dead last in the NHL last year and has Eugene Melnyk as an owner. Toronto fans, such as myself, remember Harold Ballard. So there's kind of an "Ouch, I remember what that was like" thing.

Seeing the pounding poor Glenn was getting from
us in person and on social media, Curtis stood tall
and told us how Glenn had met his brother, Mitch,
and his lady, Anne, at Dominion City and happily
invited them to join in the fun. Curtis said it made
his Mitch's day just being asked. Hey, we all know
Glenn is a great guy. Just don't tell him we said
that. Don't want the dude getting all righteous...

You can diss a brother. But you don't bend him over and jam a cactus up his ass. (But seriously, man, why is your team's arena 23 kilometres outside the city? The Leafs don't play on the Oakville-Mississauga border. The Habs don't play in Chateauguay, Quebec. Just weird, man.)

Hailing from Sudbury, Danny got some ribbing himself. Truth be told, it was the usual Northern Ontario stuff. What's it like now with electricity? How are those indoor toilets working out for you? What did your brother Darryl and your other brother Darryl think of you coming to the big city? Like I said, nothing that's gonna paralyze you with panic.

But Glenn, oh my stars and garters. Where to begin as some of it was self-inflicted. Well, okay, let's start with the St Lawrence River. No matter where we were in Ottawa, Glenn kept asking where the St Lawrence River was. What direction it was. Well, of course, Ottawa is not close to the St Lawrence River. Not even remotely. I think he may have meant the Ottawa River or perhaps the Rideau Canal? Or perhaps even, "Can you point towards the south-east for no particular reason?" But, well, it's Glenn (who I love) so I'm not really sure.

One time, Ben was driving us from one brewery to other and again, Glenn piped up, "Which way to the St Lawrence River?" Ben kinda hummed and hawed while beside me in the back-seat, Curtis was doing that silent laugh shake.

This is why I have always thought Kylie. who I knew
way back in the Rib Eye Jack's craft beer days, was
the best. I go into Nickel Brook looking for one to give
to Danny because man, he lusted after that glass. And,
well, read on. Because Kylie went above and beyond.

Finally, I just said it. "Who are you, Christopher F**king Columbus? How is that even relevant?" Glenn said something about liking to get his bearings and that was that. Except I think it happened a few more times over the course of the day because man, he was getting clobbered (in a funny way) by the guys on social media over the whole St Lawrence River thing. Glenn's old like me so I doubt he really cares but man, it was a riddle.

But it got even better. After he and Paul both landed separately on Friday night and eventually connected with a handful of us at Orlean's Craft Brewing, we all eventually retreated to our hotels towards the end of the evening. But Josh had two trays of Spearhead Brewing's brand spankin' new 4 India Session Ale in his room and invited us up. Because our hotels were adjoining with a convention centre connecting the two, I was up there in a flash. Two minute walk home? I can do that. But because Paul and Glenn were sharing a room at a Holiday Inn that wasn't quite as close as we thought, they had a bit of a hike back to our turf.

Julia pours one of us a taster when we
visited Kichesippi as our first stop on
Saturday. We'll get into the breweries we
visited in the next outing in the space.

Strangely, just as I was getting ready to head back to my place from Josh's room after enjoying two of Spearhead's 4 India Session Ale, they called up to the room. I was stunned. Glenn's got a bad knee so I had no idea how they got over so fast. Anyways, they came in, I left and that was that.

Until Saturday morning. I asked Paul how they got back to the Holiday Inn ($10 cab ride) and said, good stuff. Paul says to me, "Have you ever heard this guy snore?" Well, truthfully, no, I admitted. But the reason I always bunk alone in hotels, refusing roommates, is that, according to those poor ladies I've been with, I not only snore, I also talk gibberish in my sleep, cough loudly and on occasion, sleep-walk. (Gosh... and I'm single - go figure.)

Because we all kinda shrugged Glenn's snoring off (guys snore), Paul decided to tape it Saturday night. And then posted it on Twitter Monday morning. Allow me to set the stage. I've taken my Mom to the dentist so I'm sitting alone in the waiting area. I click on Paul's recording. Not only do I hear the loudest, weirdest snoring ever... but Paul's doing colour commentary on it while it's happening!!! Like that Aussie Man stuff. He called it the "coffee percolator" as in, "Okay, here we go! We're back to the coffee percolator!" I likened it more to loud, repeated wet farts. And the comments came flying fast and furious. It was horrific! And I could not stop laughing! The receptionist asked me twice if I was okay because I think she thought I was having a seizure.

Matty (left): "The Leafs suck." Glenn: "No, the Habs
suck worse." Matty: "Your team's lame." Glenn: "Your
team sits atop Mount Lame!" Matty: "We done?" Glenn:
"Yeah, I think so." Matty: "Beer?" Glenn: "Good call."

A quick shout out to one person who played a role, pre-Brewery Invasion. I popped into Nickel Brook to see if I could scrounge up one of their IPA glasses, an item Danny has long coveted from afar. Much to my surprise, Kylie, my long-time Beer Technician at the now-defunct Rib Eye Jack's Ale House, was working the bar. She was full-time nursing but stopped because her work environment, well, blew chunks. So she's nursing through an agency now on a on-call basis and working the bar at Nickel Brook. I asked about the glass. Yikes, she noted, it was discontinued to the best of her knowledge. Hmmm, I thought, well, I can give him mine. Seeing me pause, her eyes brightened. "I think I saw one floating around here!" And off she went. (She's the best!) Sure enough, she found the last remaining Nickel Brook IPA glass in existence. Eyeing it, she said, "There's spots. Lemme run it through the washer." And we continued to catch up.

Okay, next up the breweries visited during the 613
Ottawa Brew Crew Craft Brewery Invasion, which
include the visit to Kichesippi Brewing where this
sign tried to tell me what to do. A sign. Ordering me
around. This is how anarchy starts, swear to Gawd.

When I was ready to leave, she grabbed the glass, held it up and said she still saw a spot. I laughed and said, "It's for a guy! He doesn't care!" But thank you, Kylie!! You made a little Sudbury boy with the dream of owning a special glass very happy.

One last thing before we visit the breweries in this space next time. My Beau's All Natural Brewing rep Adam visited me not long ago. Turns out he had worked briefly for Josh at Spearhead before heading back to Beau's. Like I said, their paths crossed for only a short time. But he noticed something about Josh. "I've never seen him laugh. Not once."

Well, well, well, it appeared I had a super-secret mission then, didn't I? At some point on the weekend, I had to make Josh Hayter laugh! Did I succeed? Well, you'll have to come back next time when we visit Orlean's Brewing, Kichesippi Brewing, Beyond The Pale Brewing, Waller St Brewing, Bicycle Craft Brewing and Dominion Craft Brewing. But Scooby Doo Gang, that's it, that's all and I am outta here. Until next time, I remain...