5 years ago I spent went for the first time to Dublin, for two weeks, for my job. At that time I didn't play irish flute (only harmonica). During my spare time I would merely listen to the musicians jamming in temple bar and that was nice. After that I would usually go and drink beer in the pubs.
Until that day when I arrived in a pub I had never been and asked the barman for a Carlsberg, with my typical french accent. The tall guy barely looked at me while washing a glass, pointing quickly his thumb back behind him to a plate reading "Guinness ONLY served here".
The thing is, I love beer, really, but I hate Guinness. Really. With a slow nod I was about to get out but before I turned my back the guy at last said a word : "want a glass of milk, boy ?". The guys around letting go with a brief laugh
Now that was becoming funny. I smiled. And I told myself "well, you've not been drinking Guinness for years now, maybe your taste has changed, and after all it's Ireland there, maybe Guinness's tasting even better, and if there's one place to find out, it's right there."
So I climbed the damn-so-high bar chair (I'm even smaller than the average french guy) : "ok, a pint of Guinness, please, mate." with a grin.
The guy served me a fresh guinness with a look respect as to my decision not to turn back, and I paid for it at once.
Then it became even funnier.
As soon as my lips came to contact with the thick dark and so weird tasting drink, I almost shared a tear : I knew at once, instantly, that my taste didn't change at all and that I wouldn't enjoy this as anyone wouldn't enjoy drinking melted asphalt (my appologies to all you Guinness fans around there, merely my opinion here! ^^).
Yet I couldn't escape anymore. There were now a half dozen irish guys looking back at me the lips stuck to my glass, flabbergasted as I was by my own decision to seal my disgrace. What would I do. I had to keep my honor safe and finish that damn tall glass down. I swear I stayed half an hour in this pub sucking slowly, little by little this so called beer, trying my best not to couch in disgust after each attempt.
When at last the glass was over and my pride intact, the barman came back "the same ?". So lost in my own thougts I just replied "Yes, quite." 'cause I was thinking "yes, it really taste the same as before and I don't like it at all."
Then the barman started serving another one and I realized what he meant and I just raised armed and beg him pardon, that I had to go.
I left the bar and swore I would never, ever drink guinness again.
End of the story. The more I think about this and the more hilarous I think it was... as long as you weren't in my shoes
). HE went, and I have a magnet on my fridge to prove it. I didn't even get to Temple Bar when we were there last year. So, anyway, I'm making you show me. I don't want to get stuck in some touristy ick place.
