Every once in a while, it storms.
And when it storms, it may pour.
And when it pours, you may get wet.
It stormed tonight.
Tonight, a front stretched all the way from the Gulf of Mexico to Montreal. The same rain fell on Charlotte, on Baltimore, on DC, on Philly, on Rehoboth Beach, and on Atlanta. We all drank, sang, and lived that same rain tonight.
Tonight, it rained on Brickstore, and Cypress Street, and Square Pub, and Eulogy, and Barcade, and Lil’ Miss Whiskies, and Blind Tiger, and Monk’s Café, and Jose Pistolas, and Varga Bar, and so many more. Blind Squirrel. Busy Bee. Raleigh Times. Tasty Bev. Bottle Revolution. The list barely even starts.
Tonight, it poured.
Tonight, we reminded you of what community is. It’s widespread, and wild. It’s crazy and it’s untamed. It’s unexpected. It’s what, as Chickspeare did in the rain today at NoDa; completely and utterly wild.
And yet… there were people.
People who traversed the puddles, and the sprinkles, and the downpour. People who drove through the steady downpour and joined the others whom they may have known or not for a beer. For entertainment and silliness.
People who, no matter what the weather would be at the brewery on Saturday night would show. And that is what makes the community the way it is. You can’t stop the passion and the craziness, and the best thing about it all—the people.
As the rain continues reminding me that it’s Saturday night, and I should be downstairs watching TV shows like Breaking Bad and Futurama, instead I’m sitting here in this chair and I remind you of this awesome anthem.
You, are like my father.
You, you are the future.
You can drink craft beer like the 10% of us that do.
And you, if not now, if not in six months, if not in a year, one day you will look back on this moment and you will think of this.
Because you will remember what our beer tastes like.
And you won’t remember theirs.
And that, my friends, is the most important part of our story.
And that is what will bring you from a Mich Ultra drinker to a Hop Drop & Roll drinker a year and three months later.
When you put your first sour to your lips and you tell the ones you love, “this doesn’t taste like beer.”
Remember this:
Beer comes in many flavors.
Just like you do.
And that’s how it should be.
