Amongst criticisms of the craft beer bubble bursting and too many new breweries popping up all around our fair city, I’m just happy they’re here, revitalizing areas like Scott’s Addition and providing new and fun places for me to meet up with friends and catch up on life at record speeds so we can gloss over the last 9 months and focus on the important stuff: patterns made my sweating glasses on tables, bullet belts, and bees.
I got jazzed up in this dress and met up with my pal Nate and his lovely fiancee and baby for a couple rounds at the new Veil Brewing Co here in Richmond, and it was all open-air, good vibes, fancy fixtures and a tightly edited little draft list that had me swooning. All served in sexy stems—a detail I can’t leave off because it just swept me off my feet.
N.B. Try the Master Shredder Wheat India Pale Ale.
Burrowing into social scenes with 2 or less humans at a time has been my solace. And feeling like I’m floating 7 feet up off the ground at all times has been a happy side effect. Like I’m there, but not there. I used to always be so far inside my own head, overwhelmed by the competing notes of a public perfume that I could rarely take in all at once. I like being a quiet observer, my sometimes muted personality a forgiven unmentionable, which is a relief. It’s a happy change. All of this combined made the busy atmosphere at Veil wearing noise-canceling headphones, or taking one’s happy hour in a warm hive.
Existing in a moment rather than crafting a commentary on it all the damned time is a peaceful existence. It’s tinged with a sad sweetness, being just happy to be somewhere, while not crying. Really, that’s all it takes sometimes: being out, across from you, not sad. And when the bar is set that low—a gift of simplicity—life is beautiful.
Beer time isn’t happy hour. It’s something else. It’s a listening, letting go, laughing, and healing.