I Swear, I’ll Never Learn

I swear—I’ll never learn.

I’m lucky, you see. I found the best pint west of Dingle.
And to be fair, I’m a little spoiled about it.

But still... I never learn.

Wherever there’s a beer list, I find myself scanning for one thing:
Do they have Guinness?

If they do, the ritual begins:

• “Is it on tap?”
• “Sixteen or twenty?”

And if the answers line up... I take the bait.

This is where things can go horribly wrong.

Best case? It arrives clean, settled, domed, and creamy.
Most often? Not so much.

A pucker of oversized bubbles. A pour that stops short.
A glass that’s seen too many cycles. Maybe the lines are off.
Maybe the keg's about to kick. Maybe the bartender just doesn’t know what it’s supposed to be.

A perfect pint requires a hundred things to go right — and only one to go wrong.

So why don’t I learn?

Why do I keep trying again and again, expecting a different result?

My father would’ve called that the definition of insanity.

But I think it’s something else.

I’ll never take the perfect pint for granted.

I have to keep trying. I have to believe there are others out there who care about the pint the way I do.
And now and then — I find them.

But I also think I keep doing it to remind myself just how good I’ve got it.
How rare it really is.
How good my perfect pint is.

So here’s to all the other pints out there.
Keep 'em coming — I’ll keep trying them.
And when I’m done, I’ll be back at Boland’s… making up for it.