In search of beer that's fucking close to water

When first dispatched to investigate the "high life" for this issue, we took seriously this assignment, which we interpreted as a mandate to seek out and sample the Champagne of Beers, Miller High Life. Though a fellow-newsman friend of ours has characterized such swill as something like "making love in a canoe" (in reference to a classic Monty Python sketch), we were not deterred. After all, it's a beer that has stood the test of time-folks have been knocking back High Life since as early as 1903. So we roped three friends into this alcoholic adventure and set off to find the cheapest High Life in Baltimore. After a fruitless and admittedly non-exhaustive search in our local bars, we hoofed it north of Mount Vernon. We finally settled on Alonsoville, the upstairs bar at Alonso's (415 W. Cold Spring Lane, [410] 235-3433,, where drafts of Miller High Life were advertised online as being $2 every Friday beginning at 9 p.m. But when we arrived, no draft High Life was found. Bottles of the stuff were $3, though, and we ordered a round. Despite Alonsoville's knack for attracting Loyola undergrads in large supply for its bargain-basement cheap-booze happy-hour specials, Alonso's is, of course, known for its admirable beer selection. "Wow-I've never gotten that order before," our bartender responded, slightly taken aback. He procured four bottles anyway, and we each took a swig. Pale, fizzy, light-bodied, and bland, the High Life didn't impress. As we drank disappointedly, it dawned on us that this inferior substitute for an actual glass of champagne was perhaps not the "high life" we were intended to explore, and that perhaps it had to do with the fact that the General Assembly was about to vote to decriminalize possession of less than 10 grams of marijuana. Feeling foolish, we finished our round quickly, paid, and adjourned. Next time, we'll think a little harder.

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