A solid, but mellow, Dad's Night in the wake of a week of financial meltdowns that rocked Wall Street. Even as Lehman Brothers, Merril Lynch and AIG went down in flames, it didn't seem to slow down the bars. Both venues were pretty crowded. As the immortal philosopher, Otter, once said: "My advice? Start drinking heavily!"
Perhaps the crowds were due to the last Thursday of summer, or the return of the students to the dorms, at any rate, Heartland was hoppin'. "P" and I ran into each other at the bank and walked in together. There were no tables on the ground level, so we were seated upstairs. We began a long and mystical journey—a beer journey—into the hoppy depths of paradise. Our waiter brought two platters of beery goodness. We know the drill—start light and get darker gradually. In addition to the six regular beers, we each got a seasonal: I had the Smiling Pumpkin Ale and "P" had the Jéfé (weissen).
Kev called. "Where are you guys?" "Dude, we're upstairs!" I swear we didn't see him when we arrived. Anyway, we moved to a larger table with our food and beer journeys and David arrived shortly. Samplers soon turned to pints. (The Smiling Pumpkin Ale was a hit, especially with Kevin. Even though the joint was crowded, it wasn't necessarily loud. Naturally, the usual bull session ensued. "P's" sister was in from overseas, so he cut out early. We headed out to the afterbar.