This is the "best enjoyed if poured into a glass" canned stuff. With the floating bobble and nitrogenated air. Ah nitrogen. In most beers I prefer a carbon dioxide infusion, but Guinness really knows what it's doing.
I've been liking Guinness so much I've become outwardly symptomatic. In a recent supermarket scene I was hovering near the long-closed-due-to-covid Kroger Bar (Krobar), reopened in other Kroger clones, and asking Jenn if they'd be serving Guinness. Jokes about the bar reopening are common, as one would expect. Also, there's a wall of Guinness for sale, enclosing the bar, reminding customers to forget it.
Anyway, a staffer I know well said "Kirby, I know you're really smart and all, but you sound really stupid at the moment". That's when I knew my love for Guinness was starting to goad people. I was being triggering.
So what would a life coach tell me to do in this situation? I'll tell you what I came up with. One of my favorite hikes (i.e. walks) is a circuit around Mt. Tabor, along one or another well-worn path (we stay off the growing flora, not to mention fauna). The Narnia Light comes to mind. Even Willamette Week has called it that.
Then, on the way down off Mt. Tabor, comes Belmont Street and Horse Brass Pub. Their number one tap is Guinness, and the place is decorated throughout with Guinness art.
So I'm right at home, blending in, with no one to disturb or offend.
