Three days and nights of great entertainment passed, Styx and the Doobie Brothers both played music I remembered most of the words to. A new kid, who wasn't a New Kid played on the third night and had a nice sound, but I didn't recognize anything. He seemed like a decent guy. He was playing football with his young fans an hour before he took the stage.
I had been wondering where the Three Goldilocks had been. It wasn't like them to miss the event, knowing full well of all of the summer festivals, this was their favorite. Almost to the minute, one hour before Last Call, they showed up at my beer tent. All of us were elated and as promised, the first round was on me. They and their friends made a few trips to see me before the tent closed for the summer. At all of the festivals, the beer tent is closed with methodical military precision. Four constables approach the front line, two on each end. At the appointed minute, all products are pulled from the tables and we worker bees march to the rear of the tent to deposit our aprons and to grab the beverage of choice.
My goal that afternoon was to kill as many kegs as I could using strategic pouring. If we leave beer in a keg, a partial so to speak, at the end of an event, it costs us money. We pay for the whole thing as soon as it is tapped. Most of the younger kids who think they are in charge don't understand this. To them, it is more important to ensure everyone gets the beer of their choice. Years of experience has taught me that late in the day or evening, no one will turn down a beer just because it is or isn't "Lite" or some other variety. When a keg is empty, a tug (technical term for pulling a tap) will result in a CO2 charged expulsion of foam that hits the bottom of the cup and sprays everywhere. If you are holding the cup at the proper angle for the pour, the foam will cover you. Note: If you are going to be pouring beer on your tour, plan on walking home. The first keg gave its all at about 3:30. 5:30 was last call. The next one gasped its last breadth at 5:15, almost perfect. One more was getting close. As people rushed to beat the clock, my intuition proved to be on target. A beer is a beer at the end of the day.
At 5:30, I called the oldest Goldilock over and handed her the last beer of the season. She was in awe. I usually don't have that affect on women, it was a nice feeling.