I'm craving a steak. Again. Must be some old age thing. Like I need meat to help make up for withering away.

So I'm at this place in New Albany called Tucker's. We used to come here, every now and then. The food is pretty good. The bartender is hot. Plus, there's something about the Guinness here. It's fucking yummy. Much better than it is anywhere else.

I'm having a Guinness, of course. A tall glass of frothy pleasure while I wait for my steak and my baked potato and my sautéed mushrooms. Not that the sides matter. It's all about the steak tonight. And the Guinness. And the hot bartender.

---

The red room at Rich O's is fucked up. Some plumbing problem. So what little crowd there is has, um, crowded into the rest of Rich O's proper. I don't care though. I'm not even officially here.

They've got two new beers on tap. Both seem intriguing to me.

New Albanian Jenever Rye(10)

(draft) Dirty gold. Zero fizz. Has a sweet aroma, if that makes any sense. Flavor is quite sweet with some odd indescribable undertones. Pretty good, but dangerous because the alcohol is very well hidden. No bitterness.

8:20
They're playing fucking Johnny Cash again. I never had an opinion about him at all, but now I hate him because they play the dead fucker so damn often in this place.

8:23
Great, now the fuckhead on the sofa is singing along to the music. I hate him.

New Albanian Artemsia Ale(10)

(draft) Clear brown. Zero fizz. Smells like a pine tree - must be the mugwort. The flavor is very weird, and very good. I like this a lot. Tastes like it should have more alcohol than it does.

8:45
Piss time.

8:55
Another half-pint of the Artemsia (20).

9:00
The strangers just left the other end of the bar. I would move down there, but it seems hard.

9:06
Some guy from the future just took the right-hand barstool. He seemed upset when his Upland Wheat didn't come with a citrus wedge.

9:08
PotatoGirl is having trouble pouring Pilsner Urquel because it's so foamy. This has prompted me to write a new advertising slogan for that beer. Pilsner Urquel: A lot of effort for a little flavor.

9:15
I had a brilliant idea for a series of 'blog entries yesterday. But it seems hard, so I probably won't do it.

9:16
The guy from the future has gone. The time portal must be about to close.

9:18
Piss time.

9:25
Ordering another half-pint of the Jenever (20).

9:35
I am sooooooooooooo glad that I deleted her number from my phone. Really.

9:37
Fine, maybe I'm stupid, but at least my stupidity lets me do the right thing. Most idiots have no excuse at all.

9:20
Bubbles is here.

9:40
PotatoGirl wants me. She needs to get in line.

9:45
This Artemsia stuff is yummy. That means that it will never be here again, so I'd better drink up. Not tonight though.

I'm officially back from Chicago now.

Notice that I said officially. I've been back unofficially since Wednesday night.

Drove to Chicago, dicked around for a few minutes, got a phone call, then drove back home.

Twelve hours of driving just to end up back where I'd started.

In more ways than one.

There are no pictures, there are no stories, there are no explanations that I feel like giving.

There is nothing.

In more ways than one.

A million years ago, I wrapped my arms around her, and she wrapped hers around me. That was the first time.

A thousand years ago, our lips met. That was the only time.

Last night, I thought about how I should have never let go from that embrace. I thought about how I should have never pulled away from that kiss. I relived those moments, as I relive them far too often as I lie staring at the ceiling but seeing only her eyes.

Maybe I'm insane. But at least I have a reason. A purpose.

If I relive those moments often enough then, I'm convinced, I'll find something. Hidden in my memory of those events, there just has to be something that I'm missing.

There's something there.

I know there is.

I'll find it.

I just need a little more time.

I should have never let go. I should have never pulled away.

How could I have been so stupid? There must have been a reason.

I'll find it.

...it was a long and boring drive.

In fact, it seemed twice as long and boring as I'd expected.

That is all.

I'm leaving for Chicago now.

The drive is going to suck because, believe it or not, driving through Indiana vertically is kind of boring.

It'll be five hours of boredom followed by two hours of heavy city traffic and toll roads.

I guess it beats going in to work, though.

Bye.

Okay, it's over. I have declared it to be so.

The last pint poured during DaveFest 2006 was a Rogue Smoke (230), and it was yummy. The festival is now over.

Sure, that last keg of Rogue Smoke is still on, but it's the last of the special-order beers. Guinness and Smithwick's are still on, but they're always on. If I waited for those two to run out then DaveFest would last for a year.

Hmmmm, The Year Of Dave...

Nope, too late. I have declared it to be over.

More than that, even. I've removed the little DaveFest thingies from the beer board, and I've stolen the DaveFest sign that hung at the Rich O's front door.

No going back now.

Now is as good a time as any. I've never hidden the fact that, for me, the whole point of the thing was to give Roger a reason to bring back Rogue Chocolate Stout. Well, he did bring it back. And now it's gone. It must have blown sometime on Monday. To have the thing drag on when the star of the show is gone just wouldn't seem right.

Besides, and speaking of the star of the show, I'll be in Chicago for the next few nights. What's a DaveFest without a Dave? A ThatOneDudeFest?

So, it's over. And I have a few closing remarks.

For Roger, and for the regulars at Rich O's, and for the strangers and idiots that have come in over the last 6 weeks, DaveFest has either been a pleasant diversion, or a cruel joke, or whatever. For me, for me it's been a singular honor. I send my heartfelt thanks to everyone involved. From Roger, who had the idea in the first place, to Tony, who did the artwork, to Tim, who made the shirts, to all of the bartenders, and to all of my friends and family members who came in and treated the thing like it was real, I am eternally grateful.

And that goes double to everyone who bought a DaveFest shirt. Take care of those things. They're collectors items now.

Roger has indicated that he may have more of these customer appreciation festivals. I hope that he does. I also hope that whoever gets picked for the honor always takes it seriously and appreciates it as much as I do.

This was the first one. The first one at Rich O's, and the first one like it anywhere as far as I've been able to determine. DaveFest 2006 made news on beer sites all over the country. I hope the concept catches on. People everywhere should have the opportunity to receive this type of honor.

Like I said, this was the first. And because it was the first, there were some kinks. If, next year, there's going to be a TimFest or a Bobfest or whatever, what can be done to make things go more smoothly? I have some ideas.

1. Beer
The next honorees should really take their time in their beer selections. I really just kind of threw my list together because I didn't think it would ever really happen. The next people won't have that excuse. They will know that Roger doesn't fuck around when it comes to beer. I should have known this myself.

2. Advertisement
DaveFest 2006 was advertised in two places: my 'blog and Roger's 'blog. No matter what Roger and I might like to think, there are better ways to get the word out. I'm envisioning a sign on the wall at Rich O's, a big sign with 180 days until MargaretFest or whatever. A countdown sign. Get people wondering about the thing well before it happens. DaveFest came as a surprise to nearly everyone. In fact, on the day before it started, one of the bartenders still hadn't heard of the thing. There should be flyers at the bar at least a couple of weeks in advance.

3. Beer Again
This year, the two Rogue kegs were two weeks late. This wasn't really the fault of any one person or organization, it was more of a cluster-fuck designed by the universe to screw with me. This is something that should be watched more closely in the future.

4. Shirts
The shirts were a fantastic thing, but they were too late. We waited too long to do the artwork, and that meant that the design got to the t-shirt guy too late. So I missed out on having DaveFest shirts for the opening weekend. And now I'm left with $300 worth of shirts that may never sell.

5. Beer Menus
Usually, when Roger has his beer festivals, there'll be special Beer Menus made up that list each of the beers along with a brief description. I'd thought about doing this for DaveFest, and I'd even talked to Roger about it. Well, I dropped the ball. I kept putting it off, and I just put it off too long. The festival beer lists are probably the best advertisement that these festivals have. Future honorees should take the time to write about the beers they've chosen and have a nice beer menu put together. Plus, this would make an excellent souvenir.

6. Dancing Girls
The DaveFest Dancers that Roger ordered for opening night never showed up. Future festival dancers should be given better directions.

I guess that's it.

Today, I got my oil changed in my Intrepid, so I can drive it to Chicago on Wednesday. Should be more comfortable than my truck. Less bouncy anyway. I also had them fix the air conditioning.

Then I took a nap.

I mentioned that on Friday night a bunch of weirdoes came into the bar. I'm thinking now that they must have just been the advance team.

On Saturday night, sitting right there on the loveseat, in all her glory, was Purpella, Queen Of The Weirdoes.

I tried not to stare. I really did. I went over and stood at the island where a bunch of people I know where sitting. Including HatGirl. Yay!. I stood at the end of the island, and I tried not to stare. After a bit, I sat in Bubble's vacated seat, and I still tried not to stare.

Fuck, HatGirl even pointed out that she was wearing a skirt, and still I couldn't help but stare at Purpella.

She was a freak. A freak with hair that was about a million different colors of purple.

Anyway, after a while some of Purpella's royal entourage left the living room area, so HatGirl and LuckyFucker and I moved over there. The rest of the night consisted of not much worth mentioning, except that I had two pints of Rogue Chocolate Stout (776) and I had a pretty tough time not looking at HatGirl's legs. At least I did once Purpella had left.

Oh yeah, the place was pretty dead. By 10:00, there were just the three of us in the living room area, and about a dozen or so strangers in the red room, and that was it. All of the cool people must have been at some party. In fact, LonerBoy had asked me earlier in the night if I was going to such a party. I declined because (a) I'm on-call this weekend, (b) I had to work in the morning, (c) I wasn't invited to the PBD party he was talking about, and most importantly, (d) HatGirl!

Towards the end of the night I saw something very sweet, and that put me in a strange mood. Stranger than normal I mean.

I was so close. So fucking close to pulling myself out of this abyss. Words of encouragement had boosted my resolve. The strength shown to me by another had lifted my own confidence. I was so close.

I shouldn't have done what I did. I should have completed my climb as I'd started it. On my own. But I didn't. Instead, instead as I neared the top, I reached out my hand. She had been waiting for me for a long time. She seemed as excited as I was, maybe even more so. I was going to be free. We were going to be together.

That's what I thought, anyway.

I reached up with my hand, and she took it into her own. She smiled at me. I gave her more of my weight, and she held on all of her strength.

I gave her my full weight...

...and she let go.

And now I'm going back to where I belong.

Tumbling and bouncing off these walls that I'd so recently scaled. Climbing is hard work, but falling, falling is effortless. It's fucking fantastic, because I know that it cannot be stopped. It's such a free feeling.

I'm so excited. I can hardly wait to get back to the bottom.

Back to where I belong.

I must have decided a million times that I wasn't going out last night. My sleep schedule was all messed up and I'm on-call this weekend. Those would be the official reasons. The unofficial reason would be that I just didn't feel like going out only to have my mood deteriorate as the inevitable feelings of disappointment appeared once again.

So the plan was to come home from work, sleep until midnight or so, then shoot some pool.

Didn't happen.

My phone wouldn't stop ringing. It was either work calling about some perceived disaster, or my sister, or my friend Eric. The work calls I had to answer, the others I sent to voicemail. Don't these people know that I'm trying to sleep? Guess not.

About the eight zillionth time my phone rang, I looked at the screen, and saw a local number that sort of looked familiar. A number that looked a lot like one I'd deleted from my phone a while ago, because I couldn't trust myself not to call it.

I answered.

HatGirl!

Yay!

She wanted to know if I was going to Rich O's.

Well, duh! Of course I was. Try and stop me.

So, while my new Hard Rock Cleveland shirt was dewrinkling in the dryer, I connected in to work to do what I could about the problems there. I called my friend Eric back. I didn't call my sister because all she wanted was for me to bring my camera if I was going to Louisville to listen to my nephew play guitar, and I wasn't going because (a) It was too late, and (b) HatGirl!

When I got to Rich O's, there was an über hot girl dressed like a flapper, and another girl dressed like, well I don't really know how to describe it. It was some kind of period costume. More on those two later.

Inside, I found HatGirl and LuckyFucker sitting on the loveseat, and a couple of strangers sitting on the sofa. I sat on the throne and ordered a Rogue Chocolate Stout (736).

After a few minutes, HatGirl and LuckyFucker left. Remember that disappointment stuff I wrote about up above? Inevitable.

The strangers recognized me from the whole DaveFest thing, and I spent the next couple of hours talking to them. They recently moved here from New York They're pretty cool people, which probably means that I'll never see them again.

My second beer was a Rogue Smoke (190).

At one point FlapperGirl and some other people came in and sat at the island. I went up and tried to start a conversation with her, mainly about why she and her friend were in costume. She blew me off and said it was just normal clothes. "But you're dressed like a hot flapper!" I protested. "And your friend is dressed like an Elizabethan alien or something!"

She didn't seem to like this, and her look told me to go away, so I did. But later, when I went to the bathroom, the guy I was talking to said that FlapperGirl had checked out my ass. So that was cool.

My third beer was a Weihenstephaner Hefeweissbier, but I only drank about half of it (1240) because after the New York couple left a bunch of weirdoes came and took over the living room area.

Once I got home all hell broke loose at work again, so I spent the rest of the night trying to deal with that.