By Michael Messina
I am a beer drinker. I like the tastes and aesthetic qualities that make up a good pint of ale, lager, porter, whatever. I got a book on beer for Christmas one year, but that doesn’t make me a connoisseur or beer professor by any means. For example, picking out subtle notes of exotic spices is not something I pride myself on, but I do appreciate the way a beer smells as I drink it.
Begrudgingly, my personal taste tends to conflict with a few of the mainstream brews that we promote as “union made” here at Labor 411. Will I drink a Budweiser or Miller? Of course, when the situation is right, like if it’s ice-cold and I’m floating down the river with the sun scorching and my cares to the wind, or if I’m washing down a salty hot dog at the ball park. On those occasions I’m game, but when I’m out with my buds (pun definitely intended) I prefer to have the barmaid draw me a pint with more of a micro-brew personality.