Park the Root Beer Right Here Harvard Boy

I don’t really drink that many frosty carbonated beverages -yet my blog seems to be dominated by them. We went to the Norwich Beer Festival which for someone who doesn’t drink might seem an odd thing to do, but I had the Beer of the Root, oh yes, the thing the Brits are convinced taste like dental mouth wash (which might explain the stereotype about state of British public’s teeth.)

But this wasn’t just any Root Beer -no, no, this was straight from my hometown -Goose Island Root Beer. Goose Island is the only natural island located within the boundaries of the city of Chicago. It truly is the best of the Root Beer experiences with its slight vanilla bouquet. Chris gives it such high praise as ‘This is palatable.’ Oh yeah it was good.

Then after showing a Dutch aerospace engineer the bright lights and big city ways of Norwich we went for Lithuanian food. I had stuffed cabbage – oh yeah it was good too. Here’s a little known fact the Lithuanian World Center is in fact out side of Chicago – its funny you would think it would be in Kėdainiai but there you go.

All this talk of ethnic Chicago kind of makes me miss Beverly. Luckily I don’t drink otherwise I might break out into a verse of the We’re the South Side Irish. Speaking of Irish Americans and the beer festival I met a bunch of drunken guys from Boston who hit on me. I was evil and talked nicely mostly because I was fascinated by the fact that there were five guys from Boston standing in a tent in Norfolk. They didn’t seem to understand the whole ‘I’m from America too’ thing. (If I hear one more “You’ve got and English accent’ I’ll freak – seriously talk to an English person – they don’t sound like me – I’m in some sort of accent limbo – English people think I’m American (or Canadian or Australian or Irish) and Americans think I’m the Queen of England! I had a bartender at the wedding in St. Louis ask me where I was from, I said Chicago, she gave me a sideways look, I said but I’ve been living in England, she asked where, I said you’d never have heard of it, she said try me, I said Norwich, she said my Mother’s from Norwich! But I digress.) So the Tea Party Boys bought me a Root Beer, in payment the one with the dodgy facial hair wanted a kiss on the cheek – I said I don’t think my boyfriend would like that and pointed to barrel shouldered Chris downing his cider. He said “Aw man! Why do you do that? Why do you talk all friendly?” I said because I’m from Chicago and we are friendly – which for some reason they had trouble believing and because it just got me a free Root Beer! Cha-ching! Go park your car in Harvard yard boy-o!