The Dangerous Strawberry Rhubarb Beer

I know my limits. I do. And this is good.

At jazz last night, the Mason Lounge had on tap some kind of a strawberry and rhubarb ale. It was delightful. Not sickly sweet and more rhubarb tart than strawberry sweet. It was a warm summer night and this beverage was oh so cool and refreshing. The Mason gives us free drinks when we perform jazz and this fruity malted barley soda was my first drink of the night, which is why I became somewhat alarmed when I had almost finished my first glass of the stuff within about three minutes.

I drink about one beer per hour at jazz night most of the time. Largely, this is because I have to drive home afterwards, notwithstanding carpool with the drummer, MG. But it is also because when I am up on stage performing, I don’t have any time or inclination to acquire more drinks. The sets run about 75 minutes and I have one stage beverage to last me that entire interval. I usually get a beer upon arrival at the Mason, a second one just prior to performing, a third at set break (after 75 minutes or so of intense jamming) and a fourth and last one at the start of set #2 (which lasts me another 75 minutes of jamming). After the second set, we are done. I don’t order any drinks at the end, but instead we usually get slices of pizza at Falbo’s pizzeria next door and then tear down our gear and load the car to go home, another 30 minutes at least.

The carpool drive back to MG’s is about 20 minutes and by then I am exhausted and tired, but not in any way intoxicated for my short drive home from MG’s. This is how I control myself.

But that strawberry rhubarb drink was addictive and if I were a weaker man, it might have been going down my gullet like water. I only had two of them last night, interspersed between more pungently flavored beverage fare. As it was, I drank both of them as one might down a glass of orange juice, and by that I mean rather expediently. Dangerous drink.


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