Beer in its Summer Clothes

There are very few events I look forward to in a year that are not sports-related (i.e. Opening Day, Football Season, Fantasy Draft Day, etc.).

One such thing is the yearly reappearance of Sam Summer Ale right around this time of year.

Seriously. When I walk into a bar and I see the summer ale tap standing proudly among its fellow taps, I get so happy I do a jig. Just pure unadulterated joy, child-like almost, of the sort experienced when you saw the school bully trip and fall, or when you saw a girl flash her boobs for the first time.

And yet this year summer ale made its annual appearance, and the joy just wasn't there.

Why?

Not because I turned into a teetotaler. God forbid. I'd rather die a drunk than live as a bore.

No, this year, I knew when summer ale was coming out. I'd always had a general idea of when it came out, which was somewhere around now. But I didn't know the specific date.

This year, two well-meaning friends found out the date when it came out -- always on the first week of April -- and essentially ruined Christmas for me.

They meant well. They knew I loved it and they wanted to let me know when I could have summer ale again.

However, part of the joy was in the surprise, of being able to walk into a bar and seeing it and having your night turn just that much better.

But now, because I knew when I walked into the bar that it would be there, it just wasn't the same.

It's like a surprise party. It kind of got ruined. And yes, I know that "first week of April" is vague enough that I don't know if it's Monday, or Tuesday, or Friday.

But imagine that I tell you, "Yo, we're having a surprise party for you sometime this week." Not the same right?

In any case, to continue the the Christmas analogy, I know now that Santa Claus isn't real.

But you know what? The presents are still there. Summer Ale is flowing again. God bless America.