I recently returned from a week-long cruise with my wife and kids, which has left me at least in somewhat of a good mood. Going back to work after an extended vacation always sucks, but I can’t complain about my time away from the classroom. I spent a week away from the frigid conditions of Southwestern Ontario, and lapped up some rays cruising down the coast of the US into the Bahamas. With stops in Florida as well as both Nassau and Freeport, Bahamas, I got my fair share of vitamin D, and we all need vitamin D, especially during the long, dark doldrums of winter.

As a Pittsburgh Steelers fan I was somewhat reluctant to don my Black hoody on the streets of Baltimore (our cruise departed from Baltimore’s port). I wasn’t worried for my safety per se, but I was about the little things that could happen from wearing the colours of the Ravens’ bitter rivals – images of asking for directions only to be led on a wild goose chase in the “wrong part of town” seemed a highly likely scenario, just like in the movies. Nonetheless, on went my Steelers garb.

Baltimore is certainly “Ravens Country”. While I’ve never visited during baseball season, and I’m sure the U of Maryland has its fair share of supporters, it seemed to me the city lives and dies with their pro football team. There were signs everywhere, cheering on the team en route to Superbowl Sunday, and others thanking the incomparable (yes, even a Steelers fan can admit to that) Ray Lewis for an eternity of service – that guy bleeds purple. But what surprised me was when I stopped for directions.

Outside of a local eatery, I asked a gentleman for directions to the nearest grocery store. Not only did he give me directions, but he struck up a conversation. Doesn’t seem so out of the ordinary, but considering the area of the city I was in and my current attire, I was a little surprised. He went so far as to carefully plan out my route because he didn’t want to send me to the wrong part of the city. How thoughtful. And while we were standing there chatting NFL, a little old lady, perhaps in her mid-80’s, stopped her scooter and joined our conversation. She had a “Lewis #52” over her winter jacket, a bottle of something in a paper bag, a cigarette perched on in her other cup holder, yet she stopped to talk. We went back and forth as to the Ravens chances and what went wrong with Blitzburgh – oh, the pain! It was really, really great. Surprising, unexpected, and great.

What else was great was the beer I had aboard our ship, the Carnival Pride (not a bad segue, eh?). Hours after checking into our cabins, and having finally got the kids to nap, I b-lined it for the sports bar. With relatively few options other than what can only be described as monkey piss, I opted for Carnival Cruise Lines signature beer, Thirsty Frog Red Ale. Hey, when in Rome.

I watched the young lad pour my beer carefully into a frosted pint glass, silently applauding the diligence he was exhibiting. He handed it to me, and as is customary for me, I waited a few minutes to drink. I have no idea why I do this – perhaps I like the head to settle a bit, or maybe I just like to imagine the first taste. The beer was an amber-red colour, with a somewhat significant foaming head. After a little swish, the first mouthful when down followed by an “Ahhhh”. Quite refreshing. Surprising, unexpected, and refreshing. Another swig and I melted into my leather armchair, relaxed and ready to watch the sports ticker on the t.v. I was a stoagie away from bliss.

Baltimore is an old city, which I knew beforehand of course, but it’s much more historic than I gave it credit for. The buildings in the downtown core are quite beautiful with a healthy mixture of complementing architectural styles giving it a historical feel – actually, not so dissimilar to the way I feel in parts of Pittsburgh. As with most big cities, there are also some areas a little bit run-down to put it mildly, one of which was where I had my conversation with the gentleman and the old lady. But that didn’t stop them from extending courtesy. Even the dilapidated hotel we stayed in had courteous and friendly employees (not to mention a substantial continental breakfast!). Kudos, Baltimoreans.

Back to my pint.

The Thirsty Frog went down quite smoothly. Half way down I became cognizant of the ever-so-slight cocoa finish, and enjoyed the complement with each sip. While by no means is this a premium beer, in fact I’ve had many better reds over the years, this held its own. I guess it came down to my expectations. Expectations towards this beer, and expectations towards my team’s bitter divisional rivals from Baltimore. Both exceeded my expectations. Each has some rough edges, but if you can get past those you are rewarded. Sometimes it’s good to put the snobbery away for a while and you can be pleasantly rewarded in the people you meet or the new beer you get to drink.

While I have no plans on visiting Baltimore any time soon, and don’t wish to repeat my cruise’s itinerary, I can respect each for what they bring to the table. I still hate the Ravens though.

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