Farewell Beer

For our final night in Mexico we went to dinner at a place my friend Stacey had recommended, Coco’s Cabanas. She and her family somehow found this tiny hole in the wall place at Christmas and liked it so much they went multiple times. Although it did have a small sign on the main road we had no idea that it was tucked between many larger resorts and down a bumpy dirt road. It was worth the searching for.
The six table open air cafe and bar was staffed by a friendly young man who my father would have loved. He was gregarious and funny. We ordered drinks and when Russ him about beers he told him to get one that was not on the menu. “It’s my favorite beer,” he told us.
“When the beer salesman told me to start selling it I told him how can I sell it if I don’t know what it tastes like,” he volunteered. “So I popped one. Not sure I popped another. BY the third one it was my favorite beer.” This story sounds as if it came out of my father’s mouth.  
When I was little my father told me a lot of stories that involved beer. Not just stories, but even math problems used beer. “…if you drink six beers for six day and on the seventh day drink eight beers how many beers will you have drunk in a month?” I think my dad thought words problems were much more fun with beer. One day I asked him what his favorite beer was. I will never forget his answer. “The best beer is the last beer I just had.”  
Tonight I wish my dad was on this trip with us just so he and our waiter could compare beer notes. Nonetheless I know my Dad would be happy to know that Russ was enjoying some fine Mexican beer. He hates it when he hears Russ is not drinking.
It’s back to no drinking reality for the Lange’s tomorrow. “Sad, sad each bitter wail,” as my friend Judy likes to say. I’m not exactly sure what that means, but it deals appropriate at this time.