“I’m going to take these off.”
I’d never thought about them much before—hadn’t removed them, but also hadn't make a conscious decision to keep them. Now someone was going to discard my old growler tags.
For some, they're like bragging rights—trophies parading their beer conquests. To me, they’re like a passport. Each stamp documents a treasured record of brewery visits and shared beers:
* Hill Farmstead, Nov. 7, 2015: Every year we head to Vermont for my birthday weekend. This was the trip that established that tradition.
* Tree House, April 21, 2016: I snuck out of work early to get in line, just in time to snag the last of Very Hazy. That growler accompanied me to Indiana for my first Dark Lord Day.
* Suarez Family Brewery, May 6, 2017: A weekend getaway to the Hudson Valley to celebrate my third anniversary. Plus, my very first taste of Palatine Pils.
I consider his statement for a beat or two. “Uh, do you have to? I’ll know which ones are new.”
“Sure,” he says, agreeing to leave the tags as he peruses them. “Looks like you’ve got quite a collection.”
