iHops

It's become a lot cooler to drink beer these days. The commercial I saw during the Super Bowl for Budweiser's new Sapphire special brew made me remember a time when I regularly consumed my weight in "Lite" Beer. But, to clarify, I know that it's not really Budweiser that is bringing this bit of amber perfection to us, but rather the brewmasters of Anhueser-Busch, under a Beck's label that makes it all the more chic. That cool bottle and name probably make it infinitely superior to the Black Crown that Bud is rolling out at the same time.
Enough about them. Let's talk about me. I didn't drink Budweiser back then, and I probably wouldn't now, probably because of a comment Robert Klein once made parodying the everyman's appeal of that beer: "This Bud's for anybody who ever went to school, had a job, or has a neck." There was no way for me to feel comfortable getting in that line, so I opted for the one that had all the funny commercials: Lite Beer from Miller. It was, by their reckoning, a third less filling than their regular beer, which, by my reckoning, allowed me to drink a third more of them. It was applied mathematics. They were also the ones who first delivered on the carrying-case: twenty-four cans, one handle, the Briefcase Full of Booze. Their selection of hops and barley mattered far less to me than the ability to lug my very own drunken brawl from place to place. This was the breakthrough I was so eagerly anticipating.
Meanwhile, up the road from me, Coors was tempting me with their own light beer, spelled correctly. It also had a cool nickname: The Silver Bullet. Growing up in Colorado, I never had much of a fascination with the "Banquet Beer," since it made me think of long tables, toasts, and fried chicken. It wasn't the appeal of Smokey and the Bandit that got me. It was the Silver Bullet Party Ball. My own personal keg? Now you're talking! Even if your speech is a little slurred.
And through the portal of years, I find myself back in the present, waking up to a reality that doesn't include nearly as much worrying about the kind of beer I drink as much as the renaissance in the brewing arts that I am sadly missing. Or maybe not. I had my own, thanks.