No Beer Here

Beer. I think it’s one thing that could make my social life entirely different.

It’s not that my social life is bad, or difficult. It’s just that beer would be less expensive for one thing. Plus, I wouldn’t be a complete anamoly at sporting events.

When I was in college, my roommate and I stopped into a bar, drank one beer and rushed to the train. As we rounded a corner I bent over and got sick–from one beer. Two more tries with sick feelings and then a near losing it at dinner with a friend’s parents convinced me of one thing–I can’t drink beer. I must be allergic.

Every time we go to the bar, I can’t partake of beer specials. When there are all-you-can-drink specials that are only for beer, I do not benefit. That part makes me sad, but honestly I don’t lament the beer thing because I tend not to miss things that make me feel pukey.

Last night I went with a large group of people to see the Blackhawks lose. As we rounded the arena looking for food and drink and then sat high above the United Center it occurred to me how odd I must be at a sporting event. I don’t drink beer. I don’t eat beef or pork so I won’t have a hot dog or brat. The old sport standby of “dog and a beer” doesn’t apply to me.

It’s true that arenas now have wine and mixed drinks, pizza, tacos. But the traditional food stuff is limited for me. So, bring on the peanuts and crackerjack. And the hard liquor. Those I will partake in and enjoy. Immensely.