Frightful

As I emptied the fridge in Beaumont yesterday of its last useful items, I found a corked bottle of Belgian beer (correction, it's an ale) David had bought--and not consumed--many many months ago. The size of a wine bottle, appearing nearly full and still bubbly, I decided to take it back with me to Houston. The cork was firmly in place but it was of such a design that for all I knew it had been opened and carefully replaced. So I decided not to chance it and put it in the trunk of the car because I am paranoid about being pulled over. (Which given my average speed these last few round trips showed tremendous foresight in my tired state. Rest assured, I am always an attentive driver). Ironically, whilst driving I was sipping at a can of Diet Rite cola. I got a few strange looks from neighboring cars (and a motorcyclist), which I eventually attributed to the blue and silver Diet Rite looking like a Budweiser product. (See, I am paranoid. They might have just been appreciating my enthusiastic sing-along movements.)

Back at the apartment I remembered to unload the carefully perched ale and set it on the counter in my little apartment. Dang, doesn't fit in fridge. I could have shifted some items in door to make it lean comfortably but I was too tired. Too much effort. I'll take care of it in the morning. Besides, sitting at room temperature will not hurt the stuff. (Do you see where this is going?)

Blissfully checking emails a few hours later an almighty explosive pop was heard and a very loud bang followed by several little bangs. Let's just say it is possibly a good thing I might be dehydrated at the moment. The noise came from area of the gas stove. I was prepared to run for my life. But in my stupor I realized nothing was smoking or gaseous. In fact, it smelt a bit like...beer? That's when I realized the cork had blown off. It apparently ricocheted off the overhanging divider to the floor and up again before eventually settling on the floor. The cork would not be pressed back into service. It had expanded with the breath of freedom and was not returning to its hole. That and I did not put much effort into trying to force the thing. So I had a perfectly good bottle of imported Belgian ale open at my mercy. It told me it was good until 11 2007.

Now I should mention, I do not like beer and I am basically a teetotaler. (I know, sort of like being a fish-eating vegetarian, but the teetotaler label suits me in company. Wait, does that imply I only drink alone?) Anyway I was tired, in need of rest, my heart was racing a bit and I felt really guilty that I was going to have to waste this bottle which looked like it might have cost a bit more than the average beer. And, yes, I was alone. Of course, David would probably have never noticed this tall Duvel missing and hadn't yet cared to drink it anyway. Still, I decided to have a glass of it.

Another aside: David and I found ourselves in Brussels, Belgium once, without any intriguing tourist options, and we decided to visit a little brewery and museum. Part of the paid tour included a sampling of products, a series of small glasses of beers (and ales, maybe, I have no idea). After the first one I decided to pass on the rest. Either too cheap to let it go or because I wanted to see David tipsy, I know not, but I made David drink my share of the proffered beverages. Afterwards David appeared none the worse for wear, he developed no particular lasting taste or aversion for Belgian beers, and we went on our merry way.

After my first sip last night, nee gulp (I was tired, guilty, thirsty, it seemed a bit of an adventure to drink beer, and the ale looked like my beloved sparkling cider--bad combo), I was reminded of that day in Brussels. I have learned several important lessons in all this.

• Previously opened cork products need to stay cool and stable.
• I really do not like Belgian ale.
• Nasty tastes can outlast the flavor of toothpaste.

Oh, in other news: The house is officially on the market (as of yesterday) and had an offer on it before the day was through.