no. 322

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If you find yourself in the cellar of the Brick Store Pub in Decatur, GA, there's a good chance the 20-year-old legendary beer bar's co-owner, Dave Blanchard, will try to send you home with some glassware.

Deep within the depths of the Brick Store, there's a room. That room is lined with shelves. Those shelves are filled, floor to ceiling, with boxes. And inside those boxes are glasses—glasses of every shape and size imaginable. Tall, thin glasses. Short, portly glasses. Average glasses. Special glasses. All sorts of glasses. Way too many fucking glasses. Please take some.

Also in that room are these markings on the wall. Like the measuring post on the door jam of the stereotypical midwestern TV family, the lines and names chart the height of Brick Store employees past and present. Tall ones. Shorts ones. Seemingly altogether weird ones. (For example, one that just reads "GOD.")

If you ask about the apparent tradition, beer buyer Dan Fontaine will reply, “I have no idea. I’ve never even seen that before. That’s just where we keep the glasses.” Take some of those home with you, by the way.