Yesterday before work, I drove out to Belfast, a town about 45 minutes away on Maine’s mid-coast.
Of course, given my well-publicized feelings on being behind the wheel, there had to have been a good incentive for me to make that trip before going in to the office.
If you guessed “beer,” you’d be correct. I went to pick up some of Marshall Wharf‘s Deep Purple rauchbier – my Maine House boss’s favorite, since I’m a suck-up – for Thanksgiving dinner.
When I got to the tasting room, I ordered two half-gallon growlers of the stuff, and mentally prepared myself to hear the pricetag. Based on my experiences with growlers at home, I was expecting to hear somewhere upwards of $70, including the cost of the bottle itself.
“That’ll be $32.13.”
“…are you serious? Alright, give me two more then.”
And that’s basically the microcosm of why I may never return home on a permanent basis.