I love a good pint. The cheekier the better. What makes a pint cheeky? I’m not one to tell you what makes a pint cheeky or not. Follow your heart. But let me tell you about my cheekiest one. A cataclysmic one.
In 2022 my marriage was coming to an end. You know those books that start off really good? And then as you get halfway the writing gets stale and boring. You realize you’re not really enjoying the book anymore. But it was so good in the beginning, so maybe the next chapter is going to be better. It was like that. Except, of course, more consequential.
A trip with multiple families was scheduled for me to partake in. I am not a big fan of traveling with people I don’t know. But from the day you’re born until the day you die, you sometimes have to do things you do not want to do. It’s for the greater good. Probably.
We were to sleep in a cabin somewhere near Chichibu, in Saitama, Japan. With other adults and children. Think Jonestown but smaller and without Kool-Aid. I had a few meetings to go to, so I couldn’t join the car ride to the campsite. However, someone offered to pick me up from Chichibu Station. Attempting to minimize my time around unknown people, I said I could take a taxi. I was told not to be silly. I did not feel like I was being silly, but point taken.
As I was nearing Chichibu Station I messaged my contact. “I’ll be at the station in 15 minutes”. “OK, we’re just partaking in an activity so I’ll come pick you up in an hour”. What a blessing. Another 60 minutes I can spend with no one but myself. I thought about the possibilities these 60 minutes would offer me. I could walk around town. I could probably even walk towards the campsite. No. It was too far. 10 kilometers.
It was 17:30, July 1st. Summer was just about to get started. The sun was beginning to set, casting Chichibu in a warm orangey hue. That’s when my eye caught a tiny hole in the wall. Literally. It was a small craft brewery with a sign that said Chichibu Bar. But from where I was standing, it said “Brian, you must have a cheeky pint”.
They only had an outside counter. I walked up and studied the menu. They served 4 types of beer. That’s one pint every 15 minutes. Doable. Mind you, this was in my Chaos Era™. Chugging a litre of beer in an hour was well within tolerances.
I told the man behind the counter of my plan. He agreed with the feasibility. Now it was time to execute. He gave me my first beer. A small cup of nuts to go with it. A perfect head of foam. The beer had a distinct yellow-orange hue, not too dissimilar from the hues cast by the sun that was setting. “This is brewed nearby” he mentioned. Lovely. A lot can be said about craft beer. But it’s undisputable that the majority of craft beers, especially when tapped, taste better than whatever comes from a can.
It tasted great. And I made a realization after that first sip. My relationship wasn’t working out anymore. Was I going to continue to flip the pages to see if the next chapter was any better? Or would I take the infinitely harder decision to close this book. This post will not go into the intricacies of deciding when to divorce or not. There are too many dynamics to describe. Especially in a post about a cheeky pint. But I decided right then and there that I would do my best to make our relationship work. 6 months. And if it didn’t work out, c’est la vie. Such is life. I would take my losses and salvage what could be salvaged. Life is easier when you do not take hard decisions. But it’s not necessarily better.
By the time I finished my 4th beer my pickup came. With my newfound clarity and elevated BAC I got into the car. I wish I could end on a wholesome note that I was feeling so relaxed and that I had the time of my life that weekend. But I did not. However, I had a new space in my head I could go to. Even now when the going gets tough. I close my eyes and go back to Chichibu for a second.
I can taste the cool refreshing beer.
The setting summer sun caressing my back.
The cashews stuck between my teeth.
The cheekiest of pints.
And I know that tomorrow will be better.
