In 1997, Ally and I spent two wonderful weeks exploring Ireland by car. We fell completely in love with the pub culture—the live music, the rich Irish stew, and of course, Irish coffee, which I’m convinced contains all four essential food groups: fat, sugar, alcohol, and caffeine. But most of all, I loved the Guinness.
One evening, we wandered into a cozy little pub in the town of Dingle. I stepped up to the bar and ordered a pint of the black stuff. While the bartender was performing the legendary, slow Irish pour to let the head settle, I decided to quickly slip away to the loo.
When I came back out, I immediately spotted a beautiful, freshly poured pint of Guinness sitting right there on the counter. Perfect timing, I thought. I reached out, wrapped my hand around the glass, and went to lift it to my lips.
It didn't move. It was stuck fast to the bar.
Confused, I gripped it a little tighter and gave it a proper tug. Still, it refused to budge. By this time, a few of the local patrons had noticed my silent wrestling match with the glassware and burst out laughing.
It turns out I was trying to drink a plastic marketing promotion that had been permanently glued to the counter. My actual, liquid pint was waiting for me completely untouched on a different section of the bar. It was highly embarrassing, but at least I provided the Dingle locals with some free entertainment to go with their evening drinks.
