-Written during our vacation in the Dominican Republic–
“Why don’t you have a drink in your hand?”
I was greeted with this question by an overweight gentlemen wearing no shirt, a sweater’s worth of back hair, and a cowboy hat. I ran into this woolly mammoth first thing on the morning of our first full day here, in the front lobby.
I searched for a way to subtly remind him that it was only 9:00am (8:00am NJ time) when I realized something very important: He had a point.
And so it came to pass that I did two things this morning. I handed the chef the ingredients I wanted included in my omelette. Then I poured myself a beer.
Maybe I should elaborate a bit on the latter point. When I was young, studious pupil in school, I’d go up to a water fountain and get some water. Years later, I found that cruise ships replaced the concept of a water fountain with a self-serve soft ice cream stand. This morning, I walked past one such stand on the way to the self-serve keg that was positioned a few feet away. After the trio of nine year olds were finished with the tap, it was my turn and I was in business.
If you’re thinking the prospect of a 24 hour self-serve beer tap isn’t as cool as it sounds, trust me, it is. Oh, and don’t feel bad for Meg since she can’t drink; the ice cream station is a pregnant woman’s version of the Holy Grail or my version of, well, a self-serve beer tap.
Later on that day, I returned to our room. We have a small fridge in here that was empty when we first arrived. Not this time. A few bottles of water, some Pepsi, and some 7-Up now magically found residency in our fridge. In addition to them, three 22-ounce Presidente beers sat in proud display.
I wept silently. The magic Beer Fairy had visited. And it was good.