(a continuation from before)
I had scheduled things so I’d get to BWI with plenty of time. With kids, waiting for a plane ranges between “barely tolerable” and “utterly insufferable,” each minute holding in it the potential for a meltdown, making you That Parent of That Kid.
By myself, though, waiting is time to read, or listen to podcasts, or just relax. I was looking forward to checking out DuClaw, inexplicably before the security checkpoint ((Actually, I bet it’s completely explicable and has something to do with fees or taxes)). My cab arrived at the airport late, but I still had an hour and a half. That was good enough, right? I forcibly ignored the clock-watching part of my brain and sat down at the bar, ordering a pint of Sweet Baby Jesus.
Alex first introduced me to their peanut butter porter when he asked if I knew anyone who could get him some as a Christmas gift for his girlfriend. I couldn’t, but my interest was piqued: peanut butter?
It’s taken most of the pint to write this, a testament to how smoothly it goes down. It does indeed taste like peanut butter, to which I quote Captain Hammer: “Not my usual, but nice.” ((A close second would be “Momma! Someone maternal!”)) And, like that, it’s gone. If there ever were a beer I’d like to try on nitro it’d be that ((I passed up the chance to try Left Hand’s Milk Stout that way the night before, despite being ready to declare it one of my favorite beers, in favor of Williamsburg AleWerks’ Tavern Ale)).
I move on to the Serum, a “double hopped IPA” which, at 9%, I’m just going to go ahead and call a double IPA. Good lord, the hops on this one! Almost aggressive enough to be unpleasant. Almost. I’m not getting the sweetness I’d expect from a double IPA. which is either due to it being a little too cold or, more likely, all the damn hops.
I’ve had both beers with their nachos. Time was, I could gauge how drunk I was based on how much I wanted nachos. If they sounded really good right now then I probably shouldn’t drive. Nowadays I just really like nachos. If you don’t then I consider you morally bankrupt.
Oh dear, look at the time. An hour til my flight and half a plate of nachos to go. If I miss my flight my wife might decide she’s done just fine with me for two days, so why not continue that indefinitely?
Until next trip, dear readers.
Ed. note: despite being fairly anxious about time, your author had a literally zero person wait in the security line and was through in exactly four minutes. The only delay was that he forgot to take off his shoes. In his defense he was wearing a suit and was therefore far too important for that sort of thing.