-April 15th, 1912-
Ha! You’re sinking! I was smart enough to push that kid out of the lifeboat, securing a spot at continued life! It’s called survival of the fittest guys. He had a bum leg anyway, I probably did his parents a favor.
I should back up.
I’d managed to stow away for the maiden voyage on this gigantic, ridiculous looking ship. That was the easy part. The getting off part was trickier. But I’ll get to that.
Once I slipped out of cargo, I ran into this derpy kid named Jack who was trying too hard to bang some others dudes girl. That’s pretty much his entire personality in a nutshell. The squinty whiner wouldn’t shut up about her! I mean sure, she was pretty good looking, I certainly wouldn’t be above slapping those tittys around. But I’m not here so he can catch some snatch, I’m here for free booze and maybe some snatch of my own. Survival of the fittest, bruh.
The whole ride was pretty much a blur after I’d ditched the derp and located the wine casks. I danced, ate, danced, puked, then danced again. It was fun. At least until we ran into that iceberg. That sucked. Who’s driving this damn ship anyway? Ray Charles? It’s a fucking iceberg, not a pothole. Pretty easy to spot, guys.
So yeah. Floating in the freezing Atlantic isn’t as fun as the brochure makes it out to be. I mean, the view is nice, but all the screaming, dying people kind of put a damper on the whole experience. They eventually shut the hell up. After like, an hour.
The ocean was pure black with 2 fingers of bubbly tan foam. Why I measured with my fingers is something you should ask a drunk me.
The smells were dark chocolate, freshly ground coffee beans, cracked black pepper, light smoke and a bit of molasses. A deep, relaxing aroma. Surprising again, considering the situation. Must have been a cargo vessel transporting spices and coffee.
I had dubbed myself the Captain of the dinghy, and nobody really protested. Noice! I was crafting a paper hat to further cement my leadership status when my ‘number one’ (he hated being called that… I thought it was funny and charming) passed me a ‘we might die’ bottle of booze! I thanked Barney or Barry or whatever his period-appropriate name was and took a fat swig.
Immediate tongue shock, I didn’t expect that. Powerful dark chocolate, earth notes, light roast coffee, had an interesting hop ‘zing’ that is not present in any stout I’ve tried, it’s like a mild background bell pepper. Biscuits and wildflowers hide in the background. Very good. Not a sweet stout at all, much more like a black coffee beer. The alcohol was masked perfectly (7.75). I never forget a ‘I might die’ beer.
The mouthfeel was fairly thick and bitey, as I said before it kind of surprises the palate with a shock of flavors. Flavors were fleeting but left a nice lingering aroma in the nose.
I was asking my crew (they hated me by this point) if anyone else was bothered by the mysterious, continuous flute soloing when I spotted that Jack dingus clinging to some flotsam with his belle-of-the-hour. Good for him, I thought. He might still score.
Yea. He died.
Wouldn’t be the first guy that died trying to get some poon.
4/5 That was a damn fine stout! Perfect brew for sitting in front of a fireplace in a warm housecoat, not dying in frigid water because of a stupid boat design and a blind, pianist Captain.