Someday, i'd like to sit down with you, share a case of coors light, and listen to stories of your adventures in tracking these things down. The cynic in me knows that most of them are probably only as interesting as "I heard of/found/called the right guy in belgium and wrote a big check", but i'd like to think that as the crisp, drinkable golden lager wrapped it's warm and loving arms around the two of us, you would spin wild tales of creaky wooden doors and torch-lit cellars in forgotten places of the Belgian countryside. Of month long expeditions in tracking down wrinkled old farmers or grease streaked steelworkers, gaining their trust with your polished charm over some slow-burning cigars, and perfecting a deal that made them smile while you walked away with the treasure in a burlap sack. Of pulling bottle after bottle out of wooden crates padded with crumbling straw, revealing their labels like a true archaeologist, resurrecting the beauty of the past. You'd tell me that all to frequently, even a seasoned hunter like yourself was caught unawares by a dusky hued lady temptress or a quick talking bottle peddler, nearly losing your livelihood or even your life, only to catch the most subtle of tip offs just in time to escape the trap and live to hunt another day. And at the end of the evening, as the embers of our fire smoldered in the dust, and the inevitable end of my incredible experience was coming to an end, you'd slowly pull a bottle of brabantae out of your leather bag, wrapped in yellowed parchment and tied with cotton string. You'd hold the bottle out to me, label showing signs of it's long life but clear as day, and say "You've been looking for this one, right Nathan? Want to share one with me?" And once the magnitude of the gesture hit me, I would blink the fog out of my eyes, place my hand on the bottle and slowly push it back toward you. "Many thanks", i'd say, "I have been searching for this for a long time... a long time. But I know the taste will not be as sweet as in my mind, for unlike you, I haven't earned it." Your initial surprise would vanish quickly, replaced by a wise expression of content. You'd slide the bottle back into your bag, we'd both sit back into our chairs, crack the last two silver bullets, and truly be at peace. We would fully, and completely, understand each other.
We could also drink bud light, if you prefer.
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