My days as an Albany beer truck driver decades ago were memorable because the whole thing was so 19th Century. Each 240 pound keg was loaded and unloaded by hand, the 1971 method of tapping them hadn’t changed since 1830 and the characters one encountered leapt right out of a ribald novel. One funny young man, about my age, delivered ice and had been a college English major. His truck was emblazoned with quotes from Eugene O’Neill’s play about alcoholic dead-enders, The Iceman Cometh. This was rich because the bars were populated by alcoholic dead-enders. Another fellow brought balletic precision to the art of bartending. My colleague on the beer truck had a big dream - of one day starting his own portable shit-house business. Among my favorites was the husband and wife team who owned a ginmill in downtown Albany, Henry and Henrietta Glatz.
© 2024 John Oliver
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