Ouch, that Stings!
Dear Lord that was awful.
No, not the beer I’m drinking. Shit, I don’t drink shitty beer. But you already know that. I’ll refuse to extinguish the thirst for beer if my only choices are crap. But tonight, it’s certainly not crap. Actually, this beer is an interesting story unto itself.
A buddy of mine recently dropped off 2 home brews for me to try. Not gonna lie – I was a little leery on this one. For starters, he doesn’t drink beer. I’m pretty sure I just heard a collective “What?!” from my readers. Yes, I do associate with people who do not consume beer. Truth be told, however, I wasn’t aware of that until he dropped off the beers and mentioned it. Now that I think about it, I think I should reconsider this friendship. Wait… he did drop off beer…. OK, he’s back in. Anyway and furthermore, his wife brewed the beer without his help (not that it would have mattered), and she had never brewed before. Beginning to understand my consternation?
So his wife decides to brew beer, not following any particular recipe, but using a general rough draft using various grains she gathered at a past employer of her’s. <Grateful Dead, Without a Net, Disc 2 begins playing>
— Ok, brief interruption. I would never call myself a “Dead Head,” mind you, but this particular album is certainly one of my Top 5 albums of all time. If you haven’t heard it, track it down. Branford Marsalis sits in on the saxophone for a track or two. Great stuff. For the record no other Jam Bands are represented in my Top 5. Pearl Jam, Ten; Rod Stewart, Unplugged (almost feel like I need to defend this one, too hahaha); Bob Seger, Greatest Hits; Garth Brooks, No Fences; Tom Petty, Greatest Hits. Yes, I realize that is 6. It’s late, it’s my blog, deal with it. The key to all these albums? Easy to sing along with. Slip that disc in (oh wait, did I just date myself? At least I didn’t confess to owning the cassettes at one point), roll down the road, and sing along. Miles disappear; co-pilots get highly annoyed.
OK, back on track, if there is such a thing for me. Where was I?… Oh yeah… So I’m handed this beer that’s brewed by non-beer drinkers, brewing for their first time, following no particular recipe. Yeah…
But damn if this isn’t quality brew. Only quality beers make it into my blog, and this one is deserving. Style wise, if you called it an IPA it would have a heavy malt characteristic for the style. It leans toward a Red IPA, but it doesn’t have that deep dark color to be deserving of a Red IPA. It’s also borderline a Double IPA with as much malt that sits on your palate, but a little light for that style. I think the best way to classify this beer is IPA, but with a significant body present on only the upper echelon of IPAs…. brewers like Dark Horse or Green Flash… brewers that like to put tons o’ hops in their IPAs, but try to subdue the brightness of the hops with strong malt undertones.
< Eyes of the World begins playing; Branford’s saxophone demands attention as a mood setter.>
Th best part of this beer is he left me two. And I don’t want the one in my fridge to become lonely now do I? As I look at the flip-top Grolsch bottle, classic home brewer packaging, I consider if I can pop off the top like the French do with their Champagne – a snap of the wrist and a sword sends the cork flying. I best not try that until I’ve had more to drink. Only then will it be a good idea.
The worst part of this beer is I don’t have a third. I’d happily and repeatedly purchase this beer if it were on draft at my local watering hole. I can confidently give this beer 4 solid mugs. Interesting side note on this beer. The following morning after brewing this beer my buddy’s wife fell tragically ill and spent several days in the ICU unit of the local hospital. I’m happy to report she is doing well and back home, but this beer was close to the last thing she did on this earth. Interesting note #2, this beer, purely by coincidence, matured and was ready to drink on St. Patrick’s Day.
So I’m diving in Utila, about 105 feet down when I spot a huge barrel sponge with 4 lionfish on it. I point them out to my DiveMaster and out comes the her spear. I interrupt and ask (through hand signals) if I may try my hand at the hunt today. I watched a day or two, it doesn’t look hard. Without hesitation Marlo hands me her Hawaiian Sling. For those unfamiliar, here is a photo of one:
In a nutshell you take the elastic cord (the loop at the far right) and put it in the base of your thumb/pointer finger, then grab the shaft of the spear midway up. This of course makes the elastic strap like a stretched rubberband. Releasing the shaft sends the spear shooting forward a few feet thanks to the spring of the elastic band.
Anyway, first attempt was failure. These Lionfish may sit still most the day, but they can move quick when they want! Retrieve, reload, aim, and BAM! Direct hit through the skull. Officially, I’m now a proud Lionfish Hunter of the Caribbean.
My first Lionfish kill
But wait, 3 more exist on the same coral head. I attempt to remove the Lionfish (carefully) but fail (the shaft of the spear has barbs so the fish can’t remove themselves and swim off). No problem, I think, I’ll just stack the lionfish up on the shaft. Yeah, that should make a killer underwater photo with 4 lions strung up a spear. I’ll be so studly!
Attempt 3 was again a near miss. It seems the existing Lionfish adds drag the spear shooting forward – that dead Lionfish will have to come off. So I go in to retrieve the spear and BAM I’m nailed. Yes, nailed by a dead Lionfish. He may be dead, be he got in one last parting gift. What do I mean by “nailed” you ask? Well, I knew what happened instantly, but overall wasn’t in much pain. Just felt like a needle stuck me. No biggie. Or is it? You see, Lionfish have needle-like dorsal fins which are venomous. Yes, I was aware of this beforehand. With 20 years experience working in aquariums containing Lionfish I have never been stung, but I’m acutely aware of what they are capable of doing with those spines. Well, more specifically, I was aware of what they could do; I’m now aware of they actually do.
The DM panics (really, really cute chick that I may have been showing off for LOL) and tells me to go up. Nah… this ain’t so bad. I’m the big tough macho guy, I’ll enjoy the rest of my dive with ease. Who was just injected with a toxin? Not me… I begin squeezing my finger attempting to push out as much venom as possible. For the record, blood at 105 feet looks freaky cool – inky black. I keep squeezing my finger both in hopes of getting out as much venom and for the enjoyment of seeing black oozing fluid dilute and disperse into the ocean. Sweet, I just made this into a shark dive! Bonus!
I’m intent on killing the other lions after a brief conversation underwater with the DM (on a slate tablet). But ever so slowly the pain starts setting in. Not but 5 minutes later I’m headed up to the boat. A migraine has set in, and nausea soon follows. I don’t much feel like vomiting into my regulator, and being in incredible pain and nausea at depth is simply stupid. So I surface.
On board the boat the pain really starts taking shape. I got nailed in the tip of my pointer finger, deep enough that my finger continues to bleed and ooze without my assistance, and before long it has worked its way down the finger, spread across all knuckles, and is working up the other fingers and down my hand.
If I could put it to words, the area of the injection felt like someone was holding a match to my finger while someone else grinds a needle into every affected joint or knuckle. It’s the worst pain I’ve ever felt. The bike accident was likely more painful, but I was also nearly unconscious. Plus now I’m leaning overboard trying not to loose my breakfast.
The boat ride back was roughly 45 minutes. That SUCKED. ‘Nuf said.
Back at the resort I track down boiling water as quickly as I can. In the hand goes. I don’t know if it was the scalding water overtaking the other pain, but literally 3 seconds later my hand feels 50% better. 1 minute and its 80% better. A full hour later and it feels like I severely jammed my finger. The swelling makes my pointer finger look like a thumb.
All told I had limited movement in my finger for 2 weeks, slowly day by day getting better. The wound continued oozing puss for one week, at which time it scabbed over and healed in another week.
I did get the final laugh in, however. Marlo cooked up the Lionfish and I ate that little bastard. Revenge at it’s finest.
Ironically, a freelance travel writer was onboard the dive boat on that particular day. Her story about the event will appear in an upcoming issue of Scuba Diver magaine. Ha.
Don’t play with venomous fish kids!
