There were way too many bills and letters to shred so I suggested we fire the grill and burn everything. We were a few beers into the second, or maybe third, or sixth, day of cleaning out my friend's dad's house and home office so the realtor could come in and try to make a sale.
"Have you had Bud Light Lime?" asked my friend, appreciating my fridge-clearing skills.
"Not yet," I said, accepting the offer. I was half-covered in ash after a gust of wind got to the grill. I was fully sick of my burning idea, remembering it was also a slow process, but I was determined to finish. And I was marveling at this moment in my life - standing in a suburban Atlanta backyard in front of a mega fire, sweating, wondering if anything was in the propane tank, wondering if that was a problem, swilling cheap domestic beer like nobody's business. Earlier, we sold two ancient, giant tube TV's for $40 to a woman planning to ship them to India. "My god this is good," I said, pulling back from the bottle.
My friend laughed. She's one of the most important people in my life, though we see each other once a year at most.
"Is it this extraordinary moment making this beer so good?"
"It's because you're buzzed, and it's humid and you're reaching into a fire," she said, watching me grab papers that weren't catching the flame.
"I'm going to try this beer on a regular day," I said.
"When do you ever have a regular day?" she asked.
I'd hoped it would have happened by now, but it hasn't, which means I have not again tasted Bud Light Lime. But it's Memorial Day, so summer is starting and it's a good time to think about light beers and citrus. You know I love a shandy. If Bud is the beer of baseball, let's hope Bud Light Lime is in every ballpark. Let's please discuss this beer. Am I actually going to buy some?
