My trip to one of the rising stars in the craft beer world, Tired Hands, actually begins at a small Greek restaurant and bottle shop on the outskirts of Lancaster. I have an hour to kill, tumbler of Dirt Wolf in hand, shifting between the humming malt liquor coolers and the shelves of craft beer I’ve picked through ten times over. I wait with the other beer geeks and hipsters to score one of 24 available bottles of Goose Island Bourbon County Coffee Stout, wondering when the beer is going to be distributed as the chaotic blob of beer-ites grows bigger.
This is like every other big beer release I go to, full of beer nerds like myself that talk about how the exclusivity and hype surrounding beer releases is bullshit while actively participating in them. The irony is not lost on me, but I tell myself I’m above…
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