Utah's Folly: Palling Around In A Ludicrous "State" Of Mandated Sobriety… Another Annual "Abstinence Makes The Heart Grow Fonder" Rant

I should just get over it… you know, let it slide like so much 3.2 beer off a duck's back (quack!). But to let stupidity slide without mention is tantamount to endorsement. So here's my "inquiring mind" question to Utah's Mormon Rockwell School of Leadership: What in the freaking Joseph Smith's dry corner of Hell is the point of opening a Brewpub in the ultra-conservative lunatic fringe Beehave state of Utah?

We knew to load up on quality alcoholic "contraband" before crossing the Colorado state line into Utah. It was a hard learned lesson a few years back when, after a long day of biking on sunburned sandstone slick-rock, we showered up and headed off to Moab's famous, but oh so unimaginatively named, Moab Brewery for a two-pint buzz. 15 minutes later, glasses drained:
"You feel anything"
"No. You?"
"Nothin."
"Huh."

We had a long conversation with the ruggedly handsome owner-lady behind the bar. She schooled us in the fine, but convoluted, arts concerning "Degrees of Sin" permitted in Mormonville. I will recap the highlights for those who are as yet unaware of why they can't cop a beer-buzz in any of Utah's brewery establishments:

• Breweries are allowed to brew beer, but if it is to be served "on-tap" over-the-counter it must be less than 4% alcohol. However… and this is the insane part, 
• Breweries can serve wine, mixed drinks, and bottled beer with no such alcohol restrictions.

Uh, does that sound inane to anyone but me? Like, you can get drunk Buddy Boy, just not on quality, on-tap, hand-crafted, cold, frosty-mugged beer.  

So this time around I notice on the menu's beer listing that Moab Brewery has circumvented the Morality Morons. They now bottle their full strength beer with skyrocket alcohol levels. Not as good and refreshing as on-tap, mind you, but a loophole way around the "God Sqawd." 

Great, cause I want to get my buzz on with the Rv Gang… raise a little pre-retirement/funeral home ruckus before it's too late.  

Our Drill Sergeant waitress comes around for drink orders and starts with me. I find one of their 8% IPA's and order it in the 22 ounce can. 

"Were out of that."

Ok, so I find a Stout that pushes 8% and order one of those.

"Were out of that… in fact, were sold out of all of our bottled and canned beer."

"Everything?"

"Yes."

"So all you have is the 3.2% on-tap near-beer shit?"

"Yes, unless you want a domestic beer."

"Sheeze Louise, you're killing me here. Ok, I'll have a Corona."

"No."

"Modello."

"No… Bud, Bud Light, Coors, or Coors Light." 

Groan

"Ok, screw the party. Give me a pint of one of your three point two IPA piss-water's."

Just like Casey at the bat, There is no joy in Moab, Mighty Marky has struck out."

What Moab Brewery lacked in alcohol was almost made up for in serving size… 

Left to right: Doggy bag Debbie, Ate the hole thang Suzanne, Stomach aches Bobbie, Hole thang Hans, Gotta pee Lisa, Svelte De Gayle, and the always Dapper In-Tell-i-Gent Jim.