We are all probably familiar with the disheartening statistic of what Americans call the institution of marriage.  With divorce rate exceeding 50% years ago, society has become numb to the deconstruction of meaningful, love-based realtionships.  Common references, “my old man” or “my better half” have become all but extinct.  Hollywood divorces remain in the news and actually dwarf the hype of engagements.  I offer this story as a folktale of inspiration for Madame Brinkley and perhaps advisement for newlyweds like Lady Carey and Sir Cannon.  This is a tale of how my marriage was salvaged by an american classic.

Courting, Engagement, and Honeymoons have one thing in common - fantasy.  When I first met her, I was faithfully greeted at the door.  “Welcome Home”, “I have been waiting for you”, and “So glad you are here”.  When my friends would come over she catered to them with hospitality like no other.  She fed me, helped keep me warm on brisk Fall nights, and hence I bragged on her.  I sacrificed co-worker invitations and felt obligated to come straight there afterwork.  I was faithful.  Like (m)any men, I would flirt with others but would eventually fess-up of having a home.  But slowly things began to change…

Dinner wasn’t the same. No one was at the door when I got home.  Pure strangers got more affection, attention, and ‘private time’.  Six months into my marriage and I started to question.  I conferred with the MashUp Crew to their disbelief.  My happiness, infatuation, and unadulterated love was disappearing before my very eyes.  This is the most intimidating feeling I have ever experienced.  To walk in one day and not recognize the one you love.  New clothes, new friends, and no explanation.  Admittingly, it was here that I stepped out.  Dates at Delux, Sidewalk, Ipanemia and even Glenn’s (Chamberlyn Old Head Spot) I couldn’t capture that ‘high’ I had lost with her. 

I knew it was now or never.  I remember it like it was yesterday.  It was after a long First Friday shoot and I debated whether to go home.  I sat down and had a heart to heart that started something like this, “Who the hell are you“ and end with “I am leaving and not coming back”.  I meant it with every fiber in my body.  As I went to the door, the question rose, “What do I have to do?“.  I remembering saying, “Let me park the car” and but she responded with, “You got it, PBR!  Monday through Friday, $1.50.“ Somewhat confused, I must have look unmoved for she said, “OK, Man Cans!  Tall boys, $1.50 M-F.  That’s the best I can do”. 

Long story short, PBR saved my marriage.  With a new general manager, great looking new hostesses, I have re-newed my vows with Popkin Tavern.  For better (nights) and worse (karoke), When I rich or poorer, until the PBR Man Can special departs, I will be in holy matrimony with Popkin.  I mean really, don’t you want go where everybody knows your name and their always glad you came…

                                   
(be on the lookout for live music coming this Fall)

Posted by J.C. Polk in
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