This afternoon I took part in the age-old Canadian ritual known as "returning the empties''; Canada sells beer only at special outlets that are known as The Beer Store (poetic, I know). Anyway, the Beer Store recycles empty bottles and cans and gives money to the person who brings them in. And so, whenever you go to buy beer, you bring in your empties for the discount on whatever you're buying. I saved about a dollar off my six pack. This all might sound rather silly, but I should note that for all of the litter that there is in Hamilton, I've never seen beer cans by the side of the road.
On the way back, I stopped and ate at a disappointing restaurant known as A-1 Barbeque; I say 'disappointing' because they don't actually serve barbeque there. I was hoping for a good pulled meat sandwich, but alas, I had to settle for fries and chicken fingers, neither of which were barbequed. Look, I'm from Virginia- barbeque matters to me.
Walking down the sidewalk towards home with my sick pack of Stella Artois at hand, a middle-aged woman who was roughly jug-shaped tsk-tsked at me, and made the universal expression for getting the vapors at the sight of the local riff-raff. It was strangely reassuring somehow to still be able to come off as a hooligan to a middle-aged suburbanite- it made me feel young.
4 comments:
If God ever strikes you down (by which I mean, sends you to Tampa for some reason) be sure to get to the Alabama Barbecue. It has magical healing powers, and can actually atone for any number of disappointing restaurant experiences.
When I worked for the road crew, most of my co-workers were these old Virginian gentlemen who all had opinions about how to best cook barbecue. They would bring in the most incredible sandwiches for lunch. This led to my plan to get rich by marketing a cooking video entitled Naked Women Cooking Barbecue. That never happened though.
hey, i volunteered.
You can still be in it. This is how I plan to retire.
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