The hubs frequents a local watering hole called Flannigans. He and his buddies are regulars; they sit at the same table, they drink from handmade mugs with their names on them and can communicate with their fantastic waitress Amanda without moving their lips. Regulars, alright.
Last week the hubs tried to convince me to go with him to his favorite little bar. I like going with him because the food is super good and they usually have BBC Bourbon Barrel Stout on tap which ends up making my meal even better. But I didn’t. I can’t remember what I did instead. Anywho, last week during Pint Night (a microbrew is usually introduced and is served in a souvenir glass) Flannigans celebrated Oktoberfest. I’m still a little confused why because they’re an Irish pub, but who wouldn’t want to celebrate the marriage of a Bavarian king 200 years ago?
The staff was dressed in Bavarian attire (the hubs said Amanda looked more like the St. Paulie Girl than a German bier wench), and Warsteiner was the beer of choice for Pint Night. The souvenir glass? A boot. The hubs was excited, he was going to have his very own boot glass.
We affectionately refer to it as “Das Boot.”
I do not believe any more Warsteiner will be in Das Boot. If I know the hubs, it will probably be a domestic. A litre of American beer – blasphemy? Maybe, but who cares. Das Boot now proudly sits on our little wine bar for the world to see [mostly because it doesn’t fit in my kitchen cabinets].