Sometimes, dear friends, we have a moment, an experience, or perhaps an entire day that is nothing but incredibly, undeniably frustrating. Recently, I had one such of those days. I’ve been picking up a lot of extra duties at work due to coworkers being out on sick leave or dealing with family emergencies, and my own personal duties were beginning to fall a bit by the wayside. I felt as if I was always playing catch up and the finish line always seemed to move another three miles ahead each time I came within sight of it. On this particular day, I arrived at work feeling pretty good. All my coworkers were back at their jobs and I was ready to finally catch up with my long-neglected work. However, I was informed as soon as I got there that I would be filling in for yet another AWOL employee, and to top it off I was given two very large, daunting, and time-consuming projects to be completed within the next month and a half on top of all the other work I was behind on.
Needless to say, I was pissed. I worked all day in angry frustration, feeling unappreciated and unloved. After a long 10 hour day, I got in my car to head home only to notice a wonderful crack covering the bottom half of my windshield. I thought to myself, “Well, things can’t get worse than this, right?” I drove home, my frustration and anger simmering under the surface, evidenced only by the fact I was traveling 20 MPH over the speed limit. As I turned onto my road a small sense of relief washed over me, and I finally allowed myself to hope that the day from hell was over… but it was not to be. I drove up to my building and went to turn into my spot when I noticed this asshole:
…and of course, that’s my spot he’s making inaccessible.
That was it. I was done. I parked, calmly walked upstairs, and retrieved my favorite stress reliever:
I walked towards the door, ready to calmly explain to the owner why his car would soon look like a ball of aluminum foil, when something stopped me. With my hand on the doorknob, I heard a little voice calling to me from the fridge…
“Hey buddy! You’re gunna need some backup out there!”
Curious, I slowly lowered my hammer, walked over to the refrigerator, and heard that small voice again:
“Mike! Let’s do this! You and me bro!”
I knew that voice. I knew it well. I opened my Frigidaire (is that even a brand anymore?) and pulled my trusty old, good friend from the bottom shelf: Rivertown Hop Bomber
Hop Bomber is called an American Pale Ale by Rivertown, and at 5.5% ABV it’s a perfect friend for you any day you might want it. I cracked open this guy, poured him into my frostiest glass, and took my first, glorious sip.
This beer starts out very smooth and creamy, with a dark, semi-sweet flavor that has some caramel floating around in it somewhere. After the first mouthful I could feel all the anger dissipating, realizing finally that my good friend Bomber could relate to my crappy day, and ease it away into a gentle bliss of deliciousness. After the initial flavors start to waft away, they are replaced by a very unique hops flavor that I haven’t found in any other beer – I get the flavor of grapefruit without the accompanying bitterness that I expect from hops. It’s a smooth, soothing way to get the hop experience, but on your terms, not the beer’s. Finally, as the final notes hit my tongue, the moderate carbonation cleans my mouth and leaves me with the feeling that I should have more, but only if I really want to. This beer is truly a drinker’s delight. It’s not challenging but instead warm and inviting. It’s like the beer equivalent of comfort food – it’s everything that you want without demanding a thing in return.
As I found myself finally relaxed and forgetting my horrible day in lieu of the bliss Hop Bomber offered me, I heard that little, friendly voice one more time…