The date was December 15th, 2005. It had been about 12 hours since we boarded our plane at O'Hare on our way to Barcelona, we were Eurotrip-virgins. Since then our flight had been delayed for hours due to typical subzero Chicago winter weather, suffered the fate that all Americans trying to get a new flight in a foreign land suffer (read: everybody seriously hates us- thank you Bush!), dredged ourselves through the purgatory otherwise known as Heathrow airport, and forced to detour to Dusseldorf with narry a euro in our pockets. We were sleep-deprived, food-deprived and everything already seemed a bit lost in translation. We stumbled into the airport bar and pointed at a random beer on draft. We paid with a credit card- our cashier was a poised polite young German-Indian (Indian-German?) man. I distinctly remember thinking "Oh... so that's how you properly pronounce danke schön. You suck, Wayne Newton". We sat down to catch our breath and took our first sip. This might have been the turning point for me from my dread to appreciation of beer. This was truly the most delicious thing any of us had ever tried. The cold amber ale ran smoothly down our throat. The carbonation rising back up from our stomach carried a hint of berries. For a minute, we experienced pure bliss. With our thirst quenched and our stomachs filled- we went and sat down in front of our gate and quickly fell asleep- or atleast that's where we thought we were. (cue dramatic cliff-hanger music)
Ok, folks. Seriously. Does anybody know what beer we had? Every now and then we try to pick up a 6-pack of a german beer in attempt to find that magical beer. And we fail every time. Maybe it's not actually as good as we thought. Maybe it was just the lack of sleep, the lack of food, or the general feeling of misery we were all experiencing that made this beer so freaking good. But for the love of god, tell us your name!