In which I empathize with a greek philosopher and continue to dislike beer

As I begin to write this post, I cannot help but feel that it may be unwise. I know many people are reading this, and it is even being posted on the Epicenter's website. Therefore, I would like to post a disclaimer.

Disclaimer 1: The views expressed in this blog are not necessarily those of Messiah College, it's staff, or it affiliates.

Disclaimer 2: The views expressed by persons mentioned in this blog are not necessarily those of the author.

Now we can proceed.

On this most recent of Saturdays, I was walking back to my room, from the computer room, and my previous post, as it were. It is important to this story and many others to come that you know the geography of my room, as it pertains to the rest of the building. My room is right off of the kitchen on the 2nd floor (that's the 3rd floor, for those of you not familiar with European structural concepts). When I say off of, I really mean through, because the kitchen is on the far left side of the building, and one must go through it to get to my room.

Because of this location, I often meet people eating, preparing food, or cleaning up (only they aren't actually cleaning up, because no one does that here) as I exit or enter my room. It was just such an occasion yesterday afternoon, and I opened the ol' Tür der Küche to find my warm kitchen acquaintance, Mattheus, and his friend from America, whom I had met that morning. They were enjoying some beer and had a big bowl of peanuts and a big bowl of pistachios to pass the time. Mattheus really is a nice chap, and he has been very helpful in answering the plethora of questions I have had as a newbie here in Schloß 4. Just last week, I had an amazing conversation with him that lasted for about 30 minutes, about how the horrible events of WW II still cast their shadow on German people today. But I digress.

Wanting to be sociable, and to avoid the temptation to hide in my room until I magically become fluent in German, I sat down. The first thing they did of course, was to offer me some beer. Now, this is very natural, and probably the default greeting in Germany. You see someone you know, and they are sitting at a table. This means they almost certainly have beer, and they are almost certainly going to offer you some. Mattheus knows I don't like beer very much, beer having cropped up in our second conversation ever held together. He is naturally nonplussed at my dislike, and I think has taken it upon himself to find a beer that I will like, or to help me acquire a taste for the ones he likes.

So he offered me some beer, and I, trying to be grateful and fit in to German culture, said, 'sure, but just a little bit. I got a small glass out of the cupboard, and sat down. Thank God I got a small glass...

Apparently Mattheus's concept of a 'little bit of beer' and mine are worlds apart. I was looking for a tablespoon or two, and what I got was more along the lines of the last bit of Psalm 23. I took a sip before my cup could runneth over, and had to swallow my grimace with the bitter liquid. I just can't understand the attraction to something that tastes like rotting rainwater. 'That's not too bad, I like it more than some other beers.' I said, quite truthfully. I stared unhappily at the glass, still most of the way full. It was only about 1 cup of beer, but it was foul. Still, I'm a pretty stoic chap, and known for my durable pallet besides, so I began the unpleasant task of draining my cup to the bitter dregs.

It was a very small glass of beer; I could have done it quite easily, and held no hard feelings towards Mattheus or his friend. Alas for the might-have-beens!

I took another sip, eyed the glass, and calculated that I had already drunken about a fourth. This heartened me, but before I could buckle down again, Mattheus's blasted friend reached over and filled my cup back up! I would like to highlight that it was the American who did it first, because I don't think this practice of refilling glasses before they are empty is necessarily a German one. This point makes the entire thing a little harder to forgive, however. I settled back in my chair miserably. It had to be done. I took a generous handful of peanuts, in hopes that a strong thirst might make the beer a little less revolting. 2 handfuls of peanuts and another of pistachios later, I was almost done. I had a little more than a quarter of the glass left, about three more large sips. Freedom was nearly mine!

I've often noticed in life that one is best occupied expecting the worst. I have been accused for being a bitter, hopeless wretch, which is not quite fair, I think. There is a marked difference between utter despair and a healthy acknowledgement of the dependability of Murphy's Law. However, even the most level headed person can be caught off guard when pending salvation seems so near at hand...

Mattheus reached for the bottle. 'Would you like some more?' he asked. Horrified, I stammered 'nein! das ist gut!' but he must have mistaken my vehement negation for excitement, and proceeded to fill my glass to the brim.

the rest is, if not history, something very akin to it.
Socrates don't have nothin' on me.
Fin

Epilogue
Because there is a God and heaven, and he is all-powerful and all good, my glass ceased its imitation of Elijah's endless oil jar and I was able to retire to my room with a nasty stomach ache and dark oaths that I would break the bottle over the head of the next wretch who offers me beer.