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A Journey Ends

A year and a half ago, Kyle and I set out on a journey together.  There was one goal ahead of us, far off in the distance.  We knew it would be a long and difficult journey, but it was one that we were ready to embark upon.  Together.

We possessed a growler.  A gallon jug that had at one time been filled with beer, but was now empty.  And we knew what it needed.  We don’t know how we knew; it’s one of those mysteries of life, like how beavers know to build dams or douchebags know to pop their collars.  But somehow we knew that this growler needed to be filled with beer bottle caps.  It would be beautiful, a testament to our love of beer.  Hundreds of bottle caps, cradled in one of nature’s most perfect containers for the sweet nectar.  A way to show the world, “Hey, guess what world!  We are a couple that fucking loves beer!”

And so the journey began.  We documented the occasion for future generations.

It was a long journey.  Much longer than we anticipated.  You see, unbeknown to us, the bottled beer has a natural enemy.  A fierce and relentless enemy.

This is the kegerator.

And this is the kegerator with scary eyes and fangs.

The kegerator was allowed out of its storage unit prison and into our kitchen when we moved into our current apartment.  Poor bottled beer never saw it coming.  But I mean, come on, who’s going to drink bottled beer when there’s delightfully delicious draught beer available.  (And quite often, more cheaply than bottled beer.)

But our home was not completely without bottled beer.  It came slowly and surprisingly.  A friend gave us a 12-pack because “she bought too much.”  (We were confused, too, but you never argue with free beer.)  My dad brought us a sampler pack from his town when my family came to visit for Thanksgiving.  And little by little, the debris from these moments of bubbly joy found their ways into their final home in the belly of our growler.  Time and time again, we added our bottle caps, shaking the growler to ensure that they were settled flat.

And finally, it was over.  The growler was completely full of bottle caps.  And it was beautiful.

The journey is over.

Will we embark again?  Probably not.  Bottled beer, and thus, bottle caps, take a much less prominent place in our home than they once did.

But we will forever remember our journey together.

{ 2 comments… add one }
  • Annah February 9, 2011, 6:33 pm

    You filled your fridge with bottles caps of beer??? I be so confuse!

    Blame it on the Dallas icy snow.

    I wish, because that would be awesome. But no, we filled a gallon jug called a “growler” with beer bottle caps. Because we apparently felt that we needed some concrete proof of our alcoholism.

  • The Barreness February 10, 2011, 9:27 am


    Okay, a “growler” is something COMPLETELY different over here.

    *psst – it meams vagina”

    So um…this post kinda made me giggle for all the wrong reasons.

    – B x

    That. Is. Awesome! From now on, I would like you to imagine me walking around with a vag full of bottle caps. Clink, clink, clink…

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