As Trevor Swindley chained his Fixie bike outside a really dank beer joint last Thursday, he only thought of one thing: his lips touching the frosty rim of a pint of hoppy wonders brewed just a few blocks away. However, the dream was not to be. Swindley recently spoke with us about his ordeal.
“I didn’t believe it at first,” said Swindley as his voice and hands trembled. “I had just sat down and cracked open a fresh bag of Amsterdam Shag when the barkeep asked what I would be having. Obviously, I told him to pour me up a pint of whatever was on the rotating IPA tap.”
Which the barkeep did. However, since Swindley was so focused on rolling a perfect hooter, he didn’t think to ask which beer had just been set down of front him. Happy with his finished roll, Trevor bummed a lighter, grabbed his beer, and headed outside for a few drags of premium loose leaf tobacco along with a sip or two of malty brew – hopefully made with the solar energy from those panels on the roof of that place that just took up residence where the old Mexican restaurant used to be.
The moment the beer touched his tongue, was the moment he knew something was horribly, horribly wrong. It was as if he had tasted sin. “I knew something was up from the first sip, man. I knew something was weird,” said Swindley breathlessly. “There was this skunky vibe to those first sips – and not in a good way like when you’re crushing some Dankasauras or anything. Something was definitely wrong.” Thirsty for the truth, Trevor abandoned his perfectly rolled shag (complete with crutch) and headed back inside for a word with the bartender.
“So I go back and ask Doug – that’s not his name but that’s what everybody calls him cause he looks like a Doug – I asked Doug was was up with my brew. I asked him if that brewery that they built in a modified 3 bedroom house after the owners had to sell because couldn’t afford the property taxes after all these years was messing around with secondary fermentation or something, cause that could account for the funky notes coming from my suds.” At this point, visibly shaken, Swindley had to excuse himself for a moment and get into an argument on the subreddit /r/fixie to calm himself down. Once restored, Swindley continued his tale. Following a manic inquiry, he-who-must-be-named-Doug then gestured over his shoulder at the tap wall. “Oh yeah, I think that new one is from Oregon,” said Doug, apparently quite nonchalantly, as if all this was perfectly normal.
“I just felt so betrayed, still do actually,” said Swindley with a touch of loneliness in his eyes. “It’s like no one cared that the keg probably took a few weeks to make it down to Austin and may have been sitting around for a while. I guess it was in that time that some of the hoppy notes went funky. It was like drinking Heineken or something, I don’t even know.” Worried that we may have pushed a bit too hard, the decision was made to leave Trevor with his thoughts and his sacred geometry adult coloring book for the moment.
In a follow up session over the phone a few days ago, we asked Swindley if he has been back to that fateful pub since the out-of-state-IPA incident. He told us no, he hasn’t, adding “I just don’t know what I’m getting there. Sure, I love that joint, great patio, but it’s just not really worth the risk, ya know?”
These days Trevor frequents Electric Xanadu Brewing – which is located near his favorite taco truck. “Their tap-room is top notch,” he says with the pedantic trill of the newly converted. “You can watch the guys actually brew the beer through this big ass window.” Secure in the knowledge that the white guy with dreads and overalls – who was seen measuring German honey malt for a new batch of farmhouse saisons just yesterday – finished dry hopping the imperial red he is currently drinking while speaking with us, Trevor found a new home. A safe one; one where no one lies or pours you a beer that wasn’t made by a guy who dropped out of SMU to found a brewery when his grandmother passed away leaving him with a a few hundred thousand with instructions to, “change the world, my little angel.”