”
“Why didn’t you let him stay and drink?” the unhurried waiter asked. They were putting up the shutters. “It is not half-past two.”

“I want to go home to bed.”

“What is an hour?”

“More to me than to him.”

“An hour is the same.”

“You talk like an old man yourself. He can buy a bottle and drinkat home.”

“It’s not the same.”

“No, it is not,” agreed the waiter with a wife. He did not wish to be unjust. He was only in a hurry.

….

“I am of those who like to stay late at the cafe,” the older waitersaid.

“With all those who do not want to go to bed. With all those who need a light for the night.”

“I want to go home and into bed.”

“We are of two different kinds,” the older waiter said. He was now dressed to go home. “It is not only a question of youth and confidence although those things are very beautiful. Each night I am reluctant to close up because there may be some one who needs the cafe.”

“Hombre, there are bodegas open all night long.”

“You do not understand. This is a clean and pleasant cafe. It is well lighted. The light is very good and also, now, there are shadows of the leaves.”

“Good night,” the other said. Turning off the electric light he continued the conversation with himself, It was the light of course but it is necessary that the place be clean and pleasant. You do not want music. Certainly you do not want music. Nor can you stand before a bar with dignity although that is all that isprovided for these hours. What did he fear? It was not a fear ordread, It was a nothing that he knew too well. It was all anothing and a man was a nothing too. It was only that and light was all it needed and a certain cleanness and order.
”
Ernest Hemingway
“Clean Well-Lighted Place”
http://www.mrbauld.com/hemclean.html

Discovering 512 on tap around town has been a fun treasure hunt. Won’t be very rewarding once it’s on the store shelves.

Long ago, when I was first interested in craft beer and was visiting a friend in England, I asked him why he didn’t have any beer in his fridge. He looked at me incredulously and said, “What for? You drink with friends at the pub. Who wants to drink at home alone?”

Sitting in those warm pubs on cold nights with all the locals, who’d bring their instruments for an impromptu jam session, are fond memories. In an era when you can buy everything in convenient take-home packaging any time of the year, needing to go out is something to savor.