Flagstaff, AZ— We stepped right into it—right into a Hefescheiss as it’s called in Deutschland. Clearly the powers that be wanted us to stay. For the record, it was the only time I had ever gone to Mother Road Brewery for Purposes Other Than Ale (POTA). Hey, wasn’t POTA just struck down by the Supreme Court?
By the way, the Discord/Mother Road video is set to release July 13th… and I am just thankful we made it out of there before then. Our cameraman, Greg, and I needed to see about a P. A. system for our next video release extravaganza (VRE). Earlier we ran into Lauren @ Flag Brew, a Mother Road barkeep cheating on her alma malter, and she recommended a place adjacent to the brewery. As the dark clouds loomed, we drove the whopping two blocks southward. I pulled into the brewery parking lot—something I never do—thinking, well, we’re only going to be here a few minutes…
As I have come to learn, never think…especially in italics.
Shit, the P. A. equipment is booked for the 13th, so we head back to my Impala, greatly saddened. Then we find a beer truck blocking our egress. The master brewer of Mother Road, Urs Riner, tells us they have a few pallets of malty magic to Mother Load, sooooo…
…Let’s just get a little one.
The guy’s name is Urs (Oars) Riner; isn’t that the coolest name for a brewer ever? I actually prefer Urs Light myself.
So we get a beer, which at Mother Road is not a great hardship. Their black IPA, Lost Highway, rocks. Just as we down the last of our hoppy goodness, the beer truck pulls away. We say our goodbyes to Sharon, the barkeep, and again head toward my Impala—we might has well have struck off for Mordor on ‘shrooms (which I have).
Just then a second beer truck pulls across the exit.
Crap.
Urs tells us it won’t be long to load but, still…
…Let’s just get a little one.
Halfway through this loading procedure the skies have some unloading to do themselves, and the area is assailed by dime-sized hail—which would have been awesome, were it legal tender.
So, this freak storm of ice and rain grinds this beer loading procedure to a proverbeerial halt.
“Hey, Greg…”
“What?”
…Let’s just get a little one.
Did I mention they have 10 OZers @ Mother Road? …which is usually reserved for my filet mignon or NY strip, but these were desperate unsure times, like that time I wore a Free Mubarak T-shirt in Tahrir Square.
Finally the storm ends, the beer loading is complete, and those trapped by the weather and the business related activities were free to go…or so we thought.
The truck refused to move from the entrance.
Hey Greg…Let’s NOT get a little one.
We jump into my Impala and pull to the end of the parking lot and beep. The truck pulls forward and the beer gods finally permit our escape. However, the flash flooding caused by the storm made for a harrowing ride home.
The moral of this story? Never go to your favorite brewery in your hometown without ordering a pint; otherwise the Beer Gods have a way to exact revenge…on your entire town.
Stupid Beer Gods.
Hey…Let’s just get a little one.
