As
a college student, a musician, and a Chicagoan, PBR has many attractive
qualities to me. It’s a cheap beer that
can be found in almost any liquor store and it doesn’t taste like it was brewed
from the scrapings of a factory floor. I
find it to be quite tasty, although I know there are those who would
disagree. For me it’s a taste that is
familiar, refreshing, and timeless.
In my short span of
exploring the great world of beer, I have learned that I can always count on
PBR. Whenever I’m tired or indecisive,
it’s always there, the perfect 6-pack of glistening Tall Boys individually wrapped
in metallic blue ribbons. More times
than I can count I have found myself suddenly entertaining a rowdy bunch of
thirsty friends and ended up grabbing a 30 rack of PBR to carry home in my arms
like it were my big boxy infant. Each
and every time, it’s turned into a great night with great friends. I dare not think of the numerous floorboards
we’ve strained, stained, and danced on.
Somewhere, the floorboard gods look down on my friends and I with
disgust and disdain.
Summer
time is great for PBR as well. When it’s
summer and my days are care-free, PBR can be found in a bucket of ice on my back
porch while a guitar or two are being strummed in some aimless melody leading
to nowhere in particular. Where’s there
to go when we’ve got all we need right here?
I
was lucky to be blessed with a roommate who has shared in my familiarity with
PBR. My roommate Abby, comrade Zach and
I once dedicated an entire day watching Tom Hanks films while we tried to find
the best PBR bottle caps to make a card deck out of. We also had the profoundly modest idea of
inviting over 100 of our closest friends to our apartment for a party featuring
4 live bands, including our own. PBR was there to keep our guests happy and our
show a success. Together we’ve danced,
cheered, and conquered the night with PBR, much to the discontent of several
neighbors, a few members of the CPD, and countless unfulfilled obligations the
next morning.
Although
the days of awarding Pabst golden medals for taste and innovation have long
since past, I still would give PBR a blue ribbon for being PB”Our”. It feels like our beer, the beer for the end
of a long day, a music-filled afternoon on the back porch, or a night of
restless youth and debauchery. Here’s to
you, PBR; you were there on my 21st birthday, and you’ve been there
for many $5 beer-and-a-shots since. You
keep my friends living wildly, and sweet home Chicago feeling like home. Cheers.
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