Tucson is an interesting town. I immediately got a sense of the local color here, which is beige. All color in Arizona, local or otherwise, is some derivative of beige. Upon pulling into town I was greeted by a man yelling out of his car window, “Pick a lane, asshole!” and I thought, “Wow, I’m home.”

I have been living in northern Arizona for almost a few years now and I have both loved and loathed nearby Sedona.  It’s such wonderful place, a place sacred to both the Hopi and hobo alike, and yet there’s always something missing.  One thing that comes to mind is the lack of a well poured Guinness—actually, any Guinness for that matter. 

After the Made in the Shade incident, I swore I would never cover another brew festival again. I made this proclamation to my wife the next day, or maybe she told me. Well, the beauty of being me is no longer being burdened with any long or short term memory whatsoever. And, in retrospect, maybe I shouldn’t have gone to that second party afterward.