Thank goodness for Belgians

I don’t know much about this small European country.  I know even less about Bavaria.  And I have never tasted what I would call an ‘authentic’ brew of either.  But if you asked me to pick between Anheuser-Busch and InBev, I prefer the taste of the latter.  Because of this, I have no hesitation in saying I’m glad A-B sold out.

It’s true that there will be some negative consequences for Saint Louis as a result of the merger.  Jobs are going to be lost.  A city that has been on the decline for some time is most likely going to sink further into its depression.  Philanthropic dollars of the merged company will most likely be spend elsewhere.  While the Budweiser name might remain, the Anheuser-Busch tradition will be one step further removed from that trademark.

Still, all is not lost.  The Clydesdales will most likely still be around for your visiting pleasure.  There will still be free samples given out at the brewery.  The names of Anheuser and Busch will still continue to adorn public buildings for some time.  And, finally, there may be a beer on the market available almost anywhere in the US that I actually like.

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Why I love Greyhound.

Normally, I am an environmentally conscious person. I like doing things that don’t gouge the land. At the same time, I am also cheap. Sometimes these two things work together, as in forgoing the convenience of a car in favor of public transportation. Sometimes however, the cost to convenience outweighs the benefits, such as when they are working on the Longfellow Bridge every single weekend and what should be a straight shot train ride into the city becomes a train + shuttle + train ‘adventure’.

My recent weekend trip to Maine is a case in point. I had a wonderful time, of course, and the ride up, despite a little traffic, was pleasant. The return was less so. The driver was young and inexperienced, two qualities which I can understand and forgive. I myself was at one time inexperienced, and even my current level of know-how has not equipped me to drive a bus. However, he was also an hour late. Meaning if there was any traffic, I was not going to make the last train to the last bus back to Belmont. Still, I wasn’t terribly worried. I do have friends with cars who stay up late and could probably be coerced into driving me home. If not, there’s always taxis.

Once we left the bus terminal, the unpleasantness was far from over. I don’t know if many of you are familiar with bus terminals, but one feature that tends to be universal is proximity to an interstate, or at least a highway. There also tend to be giant signs telling the driver and others how to reach said highway. In Massachusetts these signs might be placed behind even larger trees, but in general they are still there. My bus driver decided to ignore the signs placed directly for his benefit as well as the directions given to him at the bus depot and take us on a tour of Portland.

After about 20 lefts, the driver pleaded with us for help. Did anyone know Portland or how to get back to the highway? Fortunately, somebody on that bus full of cranky, tired, and now severely annoyed patrons knew his way around. Unfortunately, the route back to the interstate went under two very low train trestles. Although I am a Christian, it is rare for me to truly reevaluate my life on a Sunday. Clenching my teeth and wishing I could shut my eyes as my inexperienced bus driver barreled under each too-low bridge marked one of the rare occasions.

I can’t say that I didn’t enjoy my trip. I loved going to Maine, especially to be able to afford going to Maine. And I’m sure I will someday take the bus again. In the meantime, I may just have to check out Amtrak.