And then I looked at the lukrs and the poster on the wall tempting me to go for a nice refreshing glass of foam; another crawl was in danger of being self-sabotaged.
... their extended version of Down by the River had me hunched over and shuffling around like old Neil himself. It was all I could do, not to pull out the air guitar.
Another shame for me as I can roll out of my building, trip over the curb, and stagger right in the front door of the Third Avenue Alehouse … … or did I get that backwards?
Along with some typical shiny brewing equipment they also have a couple of strange terracotta cauldrons for lack of a better word, with their lids tightly locked down as if the contents would try to escape otherwise.