Arizona Day 4

The hike to Bell Rock ended up being more of a walk-- my kind of hike. I pulled out a can of Huss Brewing Copper State IPA to match copper-hued scenery. The beer was just bitter enough to make it taste like an IPA. The 12oz cans were definitely not as photogenic as the pounders. While on the trail, we noticed it branched off into another path. This one was for Courthouse Butte and Dragoon IPA. An absolutely in-your-face IPA. I enjoyed it more later in the evening-- too brutal for day drinking. Perfect after a hard day's hike.

After the morning hike, we had to pack and drive to Flagstaff. I put a post on the Flagstaff Reddit to get some insight. The title was something along the lines of, "I'm coming to drink beer in your town!" I'll spare us all the curse words, but let's just say that no one wanted me to drink beer in their town. These Reddit users need to put a twenty in the swear jar-- my goodness. After abuse from five different people and no suggestions, I came across a real gem. This user recommended Buffalo Wild Wings-- but I'm gonna need a reservation. The other 5 sailors felt the need to join back in. In a criticism of the Bdubs person, I gathered, "…you managed to make the worst possible recommendation. Not Mother Road Brewing --write that down-- or Old Historic --there's another one-- but Buffalo Effing Wild Wings." We got two recommendations from this roller coaster. Another user chimed in with, "I could not imagine making a reservation at Buffalo Effing Wild Wings." It must be a local dialect. I chose not to respond, much to my wife's chagrin, who wanted to release the Kraken.

We went to Mother Road Brewing per my new friend's suggestion. This might be my favorite brewery that we've ever been to, and that's with their bathroom being out of order. I would have to rack my beer brain, but it is easily top 3. As soon as you walk up to the courtyard, you are enthralled. The area is gorgeous. Their outdoor beer comes from an extended open-front trailer with about 16 taps. The well-staffed bar included the fastest pourer west of the Mississippi-- had to consult a map.

I asked the bartender her favorite. She said, "Hold on." Then I felt a slight breeze brush past my face. When I opened my eyes, there were several tasters in front of me. No idea what had happened, but I knew the race was on. I started shooting these straight back while yelling tasting notes. In the background, I can hear the click-clack of reloading tap handles. After running the rack, I caught a buzz. I could barely unlock my phone to find the closest apartment to summer in. I noticed the Merch Shed off to the side. They had a shirt reading, "Enjoy the Adventure." Obviously, they don't have my size. Why look? I should know by now that 90% of beer drinkers have this exact gut. I would be happy to consult on the size distribution of brewery shirts for any breweries wondering. They also had disc golf discs. Why doesn't every brewery do this? Remember when I said most beer drinkers have this gut? Yeah, well, we all play disc golf too. I grabbed one disc for myself. Another for a Christmas present, but I'll show mine off well before I give it to foster resentment.

A manager came by later, and she said, "Are you looking for the unisex?" I was looking for a shirt, yes. I have never heard it phrased that way. I could have used a 'Hello' or something before such a question. After gathering myself, I responded, and she offered to go digging for it. They still don't have it-- obviously. They couldn't stop apologizing. I said, "Don't worry about it. If I whine enough, my wife will order it online." Fast forward: I got it for Christmas.

After shopping and tasting, we sat down in their beautiful courtyard. We enjoyed as much beer as time allowed. Then a woman came over and asked how we were enjoying everything. I'm not sure she's a manager or a server. I think she was some sort of concierge who was nice to everyone. Every brewery should have one of these! She apologized for not having my shirt size. I told her I had it covered. Then she commented on how much she liked my wife's sweater. She asked, "Where did you get it?" My wife instantly started sweating from being put on the spot. I could hear her internal dialogue. "Should I tell her it was on the clearance rack at the J. Crew Factory Outlet? No, say a cool store name. I don't know any cool store names." Here it comes, "I got it on the clearance rack at the J. Crew Factory Outlet. It was $7." Worse than I thought. I couldn't wait for her to ask me about my hoodie. It was a gift purchased in London-- nothing. She just said she would try to find the same sweater on J. Crew's website. Regardless of who has the cooler outerwear, she did point us towards the to-go pounders. You're not going to believe this. It's a Build-Your-Own 4-pack. We got 4 different cans, and my wife started planning out the 4 spots to take pictures with them. I planned which one I was drinking first.

The next leg of the journey is our drive to the Grand Canyon. We found our way there without any issue. We got back to the big, old-fashioned, standard National Park Hotel. The El Tovar. Where the employee's average age was just under 100. We didn't mess around in our haunted room too long. We needed to get out to Hopi Point to take pictures of beer and watch the sunset. We got a great spot to await the dimming of the light-- I drank quickly. Not sure of the rules about having tasty beers in National Parks. We snagged a quick photo of the Mother Road Lost Canyon Double Black IPA. Everyone knows the more descriptors in the name of a food or drink, the better it tastes. I found this to be true of this incredible beer. Our great sunset watching spot did not go unnoticed. As I was talking up the area, I spun around. The guy behind us had a camera with a huge lens and a giant tripod. He wanted our spot. With that setup, he deserved it. As I turned back, trying not to smile, I hit my head on a tree branch. Never forget.

Back at the hotel, we didn't have many food options. There were a few restaurants around, but they have room service, so like… We're ordering room service. We got foods that made sense to eat in bed. French Onion Soup and Roasted Half Duck. The food was delivered by a smartly dressed gentleman. I accepted the food, set it down, and turned around. Guess who's still here. He was in the room-- like in the room. I almost offered him a beer. Anyway, he obviously wanted me to sign something. My wife was under the blankets like she was hiding from John Wick. I signed it, and he left the room-- I'm pretty sure. We only spilled a reasonable amount on the bed. I tried to figure out where the Amazon Fire Stick was, but my internet senses weren't tingling. Nothing to do but stare at the back of my eyelids. Still better than Buffalo Effing Wild Wings.