As I look back now, it's all too apparent where the trouble started. Originally I had offered to help out the local community college in their new "Brewer's Certification Program" by having potential course takers assist me in home brewing during the summer. I thought the young college students would gain valuable experience in brewing, just to "get their feet wet" as a figure of speech, and of course, sometimes literally. Had I only more thoroughly thought through the whole process, I could have avoided the terrible end result, which shall be described much later in the story. For now, let me simply recite the events as they unfolded. No use in spoiling the dinner with the dessert, as they say (or should say, if they don't already!)
It was a warm July morning. The air was damp with last night's dew as the sun did it's utmost to turn a reasonably pleasant morning into a sticky, muggy day. I thought to myself how lucky it was that I had scheduled the first college student visit so early. Hopefully at the end of the brewing he and I could head down to the local brewpub and cool off with a couple of beers and have a much more in-depth discussion on the merits of craft beer and working in the industry. I had an inkling that the local brewer would only be too happy to encourage the young man in his endeavours.
A car pulled into the driveway. I was pleased to see that Alex, as my friend at the college named him, was on time and we could start right away. I began to walk toward the vehicle when Alex got out. Instead of the young man I had expected, out climbed a vivacious young coed with long curly blonde hair, sparkling eyes, and a slight smirk, as if she was enjoying some private joke and wasn't about to let anyone in on it.
I admit I was taken off guard, and may have actually stumbled slightly at that point, but it was too late to stop and ponder the circumstances. I carried on.
"Alex?" I inquired.
"Yep! You must be Mr. Davison." She replied, extending her arm out for a shake. I took her hand, by this point regaining my confidence. It was a brief respite.
"That's me." We shook hands and I noted her grip was firm and confident. And it was much longer than polite social protocol required.
"I can't wait to get started! I'm so excited!"
I don't think I would be lying to say that her eyes sparkled just a bit more at that comment, and she definitely stepped just a little closer as she said it. I swallowed hard.
After what seemed like a short eternity I managed to release her physical grip on me and invited her into the garage to get started. It was about this time that I realized that Alex's brewing attire was not precisely what I had envisioned for the student to wear. I had told Professor Williams that the expectant student should wear something they would not mind getting wet or maybe dirty. At the same time it should also be light enough to keep them from overheating in the summer air. After all, we would be working with heavy grains, and hot water. Foot protection was a must as well.
Alex's idea of appropriate outerwear is clearly in line with the idea of light. I had never seen anyone brewing in a skirt before, but I suppose it offered as much protection as shorts, when it comes right down to it. The tight sleeveless top covered everything up, yet left little to the imagination. To keep from seeming too interested in her, I commented on her choice of attire.
"Oh, it's not my favorite outfit, and I'm not afraid to get a little dirty." She leaned against the mash kettle with her head resting on her crossed arms and looked up at me as if she were expecting something.
"Fair enough." was all I managed to say. If you were to ask me what the problem was at this point, I really couldn't say. All I know is that my conscience was screaming at me to run away. I had never run from anything in my life, except that one time when I was crossing the apple orchard and didn't know the farmer had pastured his bull in that particular field. I wasn't about to run away now.
That was probably mistake number two.
