Michael Agnew

Drinking Beer in the Airport Bar

I’m nursing a ten dollar beer in a bar called Beers of the World at St. Louis Lambert International Airport. My flight home to Minneapolis is delayed at least half an hour as storms move in from the southwest. I’ve already had one ten dollar beer, but what else is there to do? The knowledge that a sixpack of any beer available would cost less than one sixteen ounce pour keeps piercing my brain. Still, I can’t resist the inexplicable pull of an airport bar.

What’s on tap? Well, we’re in St. Louis, so it’s nearly all AB-INBEV except for the inevitable Sam Adams Lager tap. Stella Artois, Shock Top, Bass, Bud Light, Budweiser, Boddingtons, Hoegaarden, Kirin.

I’m enjoying a pint of Bud American Ale at present. Let it warm up a bit and it’s not all that bad. Loads of caramel, a hint of hops. But there’s this odd and not altogether welcome fruitiness in the background that spoils the effect. Dirty draft lines? Or is it just the beer? Oh for some bitterness and some citrusy “C” hops to hide the flaws.

I started with a Hoegaarden, but wanted something with a bit more heft. Sam Adams? It’s my normal choice, but it gets old. Shock Top has way too much spice.

I once sat in a bar at Chicago O’hare and watched a man down three beers and several shots in the time it took me to drink a single bottle of Goose Island. I had to call a friend and tell him about it.

You meet people at airport bars. Everyone is moving on to someplace else. It’s easy to strike up a conversation with people you will never see again. In some other airport bar I was drinking a pint of draft Heineken when a guy sat next to me and ordered the same beer in a bottle. This made me curious. Why would someone order a beer that is almost guaranteed to be skunky when the same beer is available on draft? I asked him. He explained that he was concerned about germs from dirty draft lines. He claimed that said germs gave him a more devastating hangover, so he always drinks bottles. He told me about parties he’s had at which he gave his bud swilling friends the “much stronger” Heineken. They apparently didn’t understand what they were drinking and got completely wasted. “Because it’s 5%, you know.” I didn’t feel like telling him that the difference in alcohol content between Bud and Heineken is negligible. I just listened and nodded and laughed at his lightweight friends while continuing to sip my pint of pale lager.

Today there are a lot of stranded travelers sitting at the bar with me. Valerie is the only woman at the bar. She’s headed to Atlanta to visit a cousin. She’s on her third Shock Top. She didn’t really want the third one, but Paul bought it for her. Paul is a business traveler headed to Newark via Charlotte. He’s quaffing Bud Light. A couple of folks across the bar are drinking Stella from a fancy glass; a waste of fancy glassware. Although I understand Stella used to be a fine beer.

They should put arrival/departure monitors in airport bars.

I can see from my seat that the loading door at my gate has opened. Twenty dollars and two beers later it’s finally time to head home.

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