PATRICK MCVAY

WRITER

Hopes And Dreams

When I die, and you and other friends are gathering ‘round to drink all the beer I left behind, I want you to know that I would prefer it if you drank my beer from real glassware.

It’s the least you could do for me, for crying out loud. Look, I left you all this beer, most of it in kegs. What, you’re going to drink it out of plastic cups? Or coffee mugs?

I know some of you are just chomping at the bit to go under the tap when I die, while people around are chanting “drink, drink, drink…”, but I think you can be slightly more dignified about it. How about tapping 8 ounces into a short-stemmed glass and admiring each beer’s character? If you have chin whiskers, now's the time to massage them while striking a deep, contemplative pose.  

On the other hand, I’ll be dead, so it doesn’t really matter what I want. Nevertheless, I thought you might want to know what I’m hoping for.

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