Beer Spill

Beer spills. This is something that really bugs me out. So here is not an epic description of a beer, but a rant on spills. I do not want to get all Seinfeld on you boys and girls, but have you ever been in that situation where you are all dressed, and you know you look slick for a night out? This night is going to define your Tinder and Insta pages for at least the coming months. You are hip, you like people. To top it off, the bartender gives you a beer. And oh my… Is this beer stealing your thunder? The glass is cloaked in a nice thin layer of dew. Two fingers of foam, it holds. The fruity hop profile is of the charts and the color fits perfectly with your outfit. Rene Froger is blasting through the speakers with This is the Moment. And indeed, Rene, this is the moment. Your pucker up your lips and use all of your six cameras on your phone to make that ultimate selfie. But a tragedy is at foot. Your 200-pound boozed up friend Taco spots you and locks his eyes on you like a bull faces his torero. Rene Froger fades out and ironically Jacques Herbs’ De Toreador starts playing. He charges! Dit is het momento! And when the song goes into crescendo he wraps his arms around you and shouts ’SENORITA!’, body checks your innocent flawlessly drafted IPA. Flash! Devastation. No black and white filter, no jealous ex, no matches. Just you and your friend Taco.What’s up with that? (told you it was getting Seinfeldy)