Hitting the Bottle

A friend of mine is (finally) just getting into microbrews. The awesome thing about microbrews is that here are so many and you can never try them all, but what you can do fairly quickly is identify categories that you like. So, over time, I've been introducing her to a little bit of everything and we found out that she likes almost anything.

My favorite, however, is the Belgian Wit (White) category and within that category, my #1 is Hoegaarden. I had recently bought a case of this liquid gold, so I thought I was being awfully charitable when I stashed a bottle of it in my bag on my way out to meet her last time.

We went to some semi-enormous American-bar-food type restaurant with a good beer menu where we figured no one would notice if we whipped out an extra bottle from a purse.

Dinner was unintentionally eventful (thanks to some middle school pictures of my friend being posted publicly on Facebook and not having the ability to change her privacy settings from her phone before her malicious web-surfing co-workers were to find them by the beginning of their shift), so we never did get around to that bottle of delicious.

In fact, we were so rushed at the end of the meal that I completely forgot to give her the bottle to take home with her too. So, there it stayed at the bottom of my bag sitting all quiet and lonesome in my car.

Until...

On Wednesday, I had to go to a mental health providers meeting at an insurance company. These things are attended by everyone fighting for the same patients in the area-- childrens' services, adult psychiatric, drug and alcohol, etc.

I was invited to present at the meeting this time which is an honor in and of itself not to mention a sure fire way to piss off my competitors--which it did-- but that is another story for another time.

During my presentation, as I'm going on and on about our drug and alcohol rehab and step-down services, someone asks me a question that I didn't know the most current answer to. So, while others are exchanging information, I reach down, fling open my bag, and begin searching blindly for my phone.

I'm talking and digging, talking and digging and then...CLINK! Dear god, no.

My ring hits the bottle and very loudly makes that familiar noise that everyone recognizes. Holy shit. I'm presenting to addictions providers as a fellow addictions provider and I am carrying a cold bottle of beer by itself in my purse next to my wallet.

Nothing left to do but pretend it didn't happen, I quickly close my bag (I never did find my phone until much later) and continue with the conversation hoping no one heard. Then I start making lists in my mind of all the things it could be other than a Hoegaarden.

Snapple! Snapple has a glass bottle. Yahoo. ANYTHING BUT beer.

The conversation continues for a few more minutes and soon, the meeting concludes. I'm packing up my things-- where the hell is my fucking phone?!-- and another provider taps me on the shoulder. I hug my bag to my chest and smile at her.

"Good presentation! Oh, and that's my favorite kind too." And she waves as she leaves the room. "See you next time!"

Shit.