Tonight we had a firm event at a bowling alley. It was fun, but I noticed a number of the people in our group daintily sipping wine.
Wine? Seriously? At a bowling alley? That’s like wearing black patent leather shoes with a brown suit, or using a cigarette holder to stay away from some unbrand smokes. No, I’m sorry . . . bowling mandates a few beers. That’s what I had, and it made me feel like the Bavarian beer monarch — I think it might be Gambrinus — who graces one of the streets of the nearby Brewery District in Columbus. Even in America, with its rich tradition of monarchial opposition, could get behind a rosy-nosed king with a stern yet approving look on his face and a goblet of suds in his hand.
Bowling and beer go together, like mashed potatoes and gravy or grilled cheese and tomato soup.