This happened to me almost two weeks ago, but I’m only just now able to discuss it without giggling like a schoolgirl. So here’s my short, random story:
Whenever I’m down working in LA I try to stop by Father’s Office. A gastro-pub with a fantastic craft-beer list and a burger that’s lodged firmly in my Top Five.
I was sitting at the Santa Monica FO and noticed, out of all their 36 or so taps, there wasn’t a single Lagunitas handle. (*Not only am I a huge fan, I do some work for them, and I live less than a mile from the brewery up in Petaluma—a dangerous trifecta.)
So I sent this text to Lagunitas’ Head Beer Weasel, Ron Lindenbusch:
Not five seconds later I get tapped on my shoulder. It’s freakin’ Ron. No joke. He was five stools away from me. What was he doing down there? Making a special delivery to Father’s Office: Lagunitas tap handles.
Whoa. And on the day MJ died, too. Crazy.
Naturally, I had to take him by Chez Jay, Santa Monica’s finest dive-bar with a giant conch shell outside. Cheers, Ron!