Frauleins, Frat Tucks, and... Hey, Where's the Beer?

Author: 
Brian Wilder
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The Charleston Beer Garden at Brittlebank Park on Saturday, May 18, had pretty much everything.

 

Feel like tossing empty kegs down a field with your bros while bystanders gawked at your seemingly endless, Hulk-like feats of strength? The Charleston Beer Garden had that.

 

 

Ladies, need a public arena to break out your best “gotta-catch-a-man” outfit, complete with six-inch wedges that would allow an Oompa Loompa to meet NBA height requirements? The beer garden had that, too.

 

Are you ever chomping at the bit for a chance for your blurred—and possibly sunburned visage—to play the background for a reality based television show set here in the Holy City? Hell! You would have been at the right place.

 

 

Conversely, of all the things they did have—local and regional music acts, delicious food trucks, homebrew tutorials, a bar within a bar (courtesy of The Bridge 105.5)—the one thing that was incredibly lacking was, well, the beer. Granted, there were plenty of vendors, showing their wares and merchandise with all the gusto of a 1970s pimp, but behind all the pomp and circumstance was an empty, vacuum of an event.

 

 

When it came to variety and exclusivity, the beer selection fell flat.

 

Notwithstanding the fact that the majority or suds being slung have been and are readily available at most bars, pubs, restaurants, breweries and even gas stations in the area, the beers in attendance weren’t anything to write home about. Consequently, because there was very little in the beer realm to look forward to, there’s was no real buffer to fight against the inevitable ennui I felt when it finally came time to leave.

 

Perhaps this event wasn’t made for people like me? Perhaps it wasn’t made for the beer snobs, who would sooner lose their virginity to an air-sealed bag of Amarillo hops than, you know, a human being? Honestly, I’m not sure who (or what) the Charleston Beer Garden was geared towards. Quite frankly, I don’t think event goers or the organizers knew, either.

 

In the end, Kevin, my friend and abettor for the event, put it best: “This is a beer festival for people who don’t really like beer.”