The latest incarnation of the San Juan Brigade played trivia at the P&H last night. After I enjoyed a solo 1554, I partook of the community pitchers of Pabst Blue Ribbon.
Not that anyone would mistake me for a hipster anyway, but any possible street cred I might've accrued by playing in a rock band with younger, hipper dudes is surely leavened by the fact that I simply do not drink PBR. I tried it back in 2002 (why do I remember these details?) and, while I thought it tasted OK, I developed a severe headache after only a single pint. I hadn't tried it again since.
But because it was right there in front of me last night, I had a cup. My first impresson was that, hey, it's pretty good...not packed with flavor, but cold, light, and crisp. And cheap. I poured a second cup. Still tasty. Still cheap.
And then--WHAM---the headache kicked in. I drank other liquids to try to counter the effect, but the dull pain persisted. Offered another cup, I shook my head and declined.
Turns out I'm not alone in experiencing this adverse effect. In "10 Reasons Why You Should Not Buy Pabst Blue Ribbon Beer," G.R. notes the "crushing headache" that accompanies only a couple of pints. Another drinker's review of PBR consisted only of "Guaranteed headache."
Regardless, though, last night's experience only confirms the obvious:
I'm definitely not a hipster.
Street cred = nil.
Though I guess I could still go buy a trucker hat, or a chain wallet, or something.
And, as my wife can attest to, even though I don't dress or drink like a hipster, a night at the P&H always leaves me smelling like one.
Running log: 3 miles at Sea Isle near race pace (preparing for Thursday's Zoom Through the Zoo 4-miler)