Allow me to take you back to a simpler time. When Corona was a beer served with a lime, when people stood six apart from me because I smelled bad, and when the biggest issue in my life was dealing with beer snobs.

The night? August 23rd, 2019.  The place? My friend’s apartment followed by a trip to a dive bar. What was I drinking? Whatever was there. Was this an issue? Not to me, but I’d like you to meet Sam. Sam had an issue with that.

The night began like any other. A few friends and I were heading downtown for a fun Friday night. Watch whatever boring sport was on TV, talk about nothing, and spend too much money on liquor. A typical night for a typical group of fellas. My buddy Josh decides he wants to invite his new friend Sam.

“He’s a really cool guy. Super smart.” Josh tells me.

Josh is barely able to pop microwave popcorn and spelt his girlfriend’s name wrong on her birthday card last year, so his standard for smart isn’t very high. I figure it could be fun. “What’s one more?” I thought. Man, that sentence always precedes something terrible.

We all meet up at Josh’s apartment before heading out. Josh’s place is your typical “Twenty-Something In Vancouver” apartment. Small, reeks of weed, and has a fridge packed full of cheap beer and leftover pizza. I pause after walking through the door. I always need a moment to process this assault on my senses.

“Nels! Hey!”

I snap out of the momentary hypnotic state Josh’s apartment has put me in. I look over to my right. It’s Devin, Josh’s roommate and one of my oldest friends. Dev was in his natural habitat; sprawled out on the couch watching old sports highlights. For whatever reason Dev has an affinity with sports team from Detroit, despite the fact he has never visited the Motorcity once in his life. Tonight he was watching reruns of the Piston’s 2004 championship run.

“Man that was such a good series. We had such a good team.”

“Dev, you didn’t even follow basketball until 2007.”

“Whatever, man.”

I sit down next to Dev. He hands me a room temperature Bud Light. I settle in and watch Richard Hamilton smoke the Lakers. Moments later I hear a knock at the door. This is where the trouble starts.

“I’ll get it!” I hear Josh yell from his bedroom. He rushes to the door, still pulling his ripped Van Halen shirt on.

The door opens.

“Hey, Sam! Come on in.”

You might be wondering why I’ve told you all this. Why I’ve taken so long to the get the action of the story. It’s because I want you to understand how everything was going fine until this moment. It was just another night hanging out and having fun, until somebody decided to ruin it all.

Anyways.

Sam looks around. His voice says “Nice place” but his face says “Do you ever clean?”. He puts a six pack of something in Josh’s fridge (despite the fact we are heading to a bar in thirty minutes) and sits down in a Lazy Boy next to the couch.

“Oh. Hey. Sam” he says to me and extends his hand (Anyone else remember handshakes?)

“Nels. Nice to meet you.” I shake his hand.

“You guys drinking Bud, eh?” He asks, half a smirk.

“Uh, yeah.” I answer.

“Man I can’t stand that stuff. Only IPAs for me”.

Oh.

No.

He’s one of “those.” One of the worst things a person can be…. a beer nerd. I had heard tales but I didn’t think they actually existed. Someone who actually cares about what other people drink. Someone who actually places some type of value on that.

“Oh. Yeah. Those are fine.” I reply.

“Have you tried this one?” He holds his bottle up “It’s Steamworks. I wasn’t totally sold on it at first but…”

At this point I have totally blocked him out. I adopt a polite smile on my face and nod along, adding in the occasional “mhm” as this doofus babbles on. Dev hasn’t taken his eyes off the Pistons game.

Josh finally gets ready. He’s wearing his finest ripped Van Halen shirt, acid washed jeans, and a beat up Blue Jays hat. Had I known we were dressing fancy for the night I’d have packed my tux.

We get to the bar. Sit down, order our drinks. I get whatever is on special (Molson Canadian. Five Dollars.) Dev orders a Guiness, Josh get his usual Corona, and Sam asks what IPAs they have.

“Sorry, we’re out of IPAs” the waitress, Sara (I think?), tells us.

“Oh. Hm.” This has upset Sam much more than it should.

“We have some pale ales?” Sara (I think?) suggests.

“Well, it’s not totally the same…” Sam stops himself. I can tell he really wants to lecture us all but holds back. Thank you, Sam.

“That’s fine. Yeah, just a Steamworks Pale Ale.”

“For sure.” Sara (I think?)  says, her demeanor noticeably a little less chipper.

The rest of night goes fine. Josh goes on forever about how work sucks, Dev tells us this is the Red Wings year to win it all (Not even close, Dev.) and Sam whines about the Pale Ale. Night ends, we get our bill, say our goodbyes and head home.

I don’t see Sam next week. Never do again. Guess we weren’t smart enough for him.

Look, I get it. Different people are into different things. If you’re a beer nerd, that’s cool. Just don’t act all high and mighty because your drink costs two dollars more but is “so worth it, because of the hops.” Stop it. Nobody cares.

Vancouver is home to a lot of cool breweries and a lot of unique beers. For the record: I love craft beer, but I get it’s not everyone’s thing. Don’t force other people to listen to you rant and rave about how Bud Light isn’t “real beer” because of X, Y, and Z.

Newsflash: All beer is pretty terrible, it’s all about finding the one you’re going to force yourself to like.

If you’ve read this far, I raise my Molson to you.

Cheers!