We all tried sleeping on the train, although I don't remember anyone actually doing it. It would've been rather pointless since it's a half hour trip to Alloa. The train stopped and we all stumbled out--almost everyone on it was a student heading here for cheap beer.
Liam wanted to stop and get food at ASDA, which I agreed to since I also hadn't eaten and didn't want to drink on an empty stomach. Liam's a longhaired little teenager who's always shamelessly hitting people up for money and is in perpetual debt to his friends. I like him because he reminds me a lot of me at his age. We found cheap bacon rolls and milkshakes, which he insisted on. I was to tired to protest on the grounds that milk and alcohol are notorious enemies. As it turns out a milkshake here is just thick flavored milk, so we were fine either way. I can't imagine how he'll react to a real milkshake when he visits the states.
We rejoined the crowd and made our way to Alloa's town hall. Alloa's a small town in Fife Valley that doesn't really have anything, but today it had beer. Beer from all over Scotland. Beers with names like 'Demon Dark' and 'Movember Foxtrot' and 'Tempest.' We paid our fees and they shuffled us into the hall, which I think was built between the wars. Judging by the heating, those wars would be the Hundred Years and the English Civil War, respectively. They handed out commemorative pint glasses in lieu of tickets, and cards with little circles representing different monetary values to pay with. This would save the barkeeps time in dealing with cash. There must've been a hundred beers on draft. All the local breweries from across the valley were here, and some from farther away. Our local, the Alanwater, was represented by their brewery, Tinpot, with an Earl Grey Pot. But where's the fun in drinking the familiar?
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| Tap Out |
It was maybe half noon, but probably earlier, and all of the tables were full. We staked out a corner, and then made our way in rounds to the bar for half pints. Half pints were easier since you got to taste more. My first was a heavy that tasted like coffee, which seemed fitting since it was essentially morning. Two more chased quite well, one of them an 'American Pale Ale,' if that exists. I can't remember what it was called, only that it had 'horse' in the name.
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| Wishful Drinking |
We loafed a bit, bought steak pies with mushy peas from the concession. A white-haired woman and her husband were doling out food on styrofoam plates. The scene reminded me of church fundraisers when I was a kid, or watching my aunt boil hotdogs at basketball games in Ohio, even though the fare was worlds away.
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| George misunderstands the term 'Beer Goggles' |
Eventually we found a table to sit at, across from a redhead from North Carolina and a Canadian in spiky heels that would give Lady Gaga pause. By this time I was into the second half of a high-yield pumpkin ale, and not afraid to say 'Thanks for Metric and not much else.' She hadn't gone quite as quickly as the rest of us, but still couldn't think of much to say. I don't know what they teach school kids North of the border, but politeness is usually just what weakness looks like in a tie. George had been told there would be a band, although this turned out to be a lie. Emma sat snapping pictures, which was incessant but proved to be quite useful. I don't remember what Carolyn was doing but I assume it was outdrinking us all.
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| A life of crime at the chippey |
By about six it looked like midnight, so we started to make our way home. We stopped in at a chippey on the way to the station and I got another pie, this one scotch. We had to wait at the station for the better (or really worse) part of an hour and it was cold and German tourists took up half the waiting room and the metal chairs were too uncomfortable to sleep in. On the train back, though, we were silly and George stole my hat and we tried to eat Carolyn. We were back by about eight bemoaning the fact that it was so early and we were so sleepy. We continued our whining all the way to the union bar where we bought jagerbombs and Tennets to wash out the good tastes lingering in our mouths.
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| Unrepentant Beer Drinkers |
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| All (or at least most) photo credits go to Emma Simpson, who looks like this after about four pints. |
