The Beer Wall
When I first came up with this blog, I thought, “Oh my god a blog post about the beer wall!”
I’ve waited months to write this one.
And since I’m finally moved into my new place and have it taped up again, it’s finally time!
I compulsively buy new six packs. And that’s not hyperbole. I compulsively buy new six packs. I’ll walk into a grocery store needing eggs, chicken, and vegetables, grab a cart, blink, and somehow find myself in the beer aisle. I used to wonder if I might be an alcoholic, but I realized it’s addictively wanting to add to my collection that makes me impulse buy four six packs at a time. Kinda like collecting Pokemon cards, only it’s ‘Gotta drink em all!’ instead.
No drinking problem here.
Buying beer has become a lot more exciting, but also a lot more paralyzing as a result. There are so many factors to consider.
- Is it already on the wall?
- How much is it?
- Does the internet say it’s good?
- Will whoever I’m drinking with like it?
- How cool does the case look?
It’s not a trivial decision-making process. I feel like a really stupid AI algorithm that takes way too long to run. Anyone who’s bought beer with me knows how annoyingly long I stand there deciding.
But when I finally decide. Oh my god. The glee. The dopamine rush. The anticipation to destroy the cardboard case with scissors is unbearable. It’s gotten to the point where I often look forward to it more than actually drinking the beer. Which is pretty sad. But whatever.
God I love it so much.
MORE! MORE! MORE!
I came up with the idea for the beer wall a few months before I turned 21. I was sitting in my apartment on campus with Paul, looking at a case of Sierra Nevada Kellerweis he bought for me. “Dude wouldn’t it be sick if every time I got a new six pack I cut it out and made like a collage kinda thing? It’d be super colorful and stuff.” I’m pretty sure Paul was barely paying attention and was like “Yeah dude” kinda waiving it off, like oh it’s just another one of Johann’s stupid ideas haha. Fuck you. I remember holding on to the first five beer case cutouts for months before I could put it on a wall for the first time in my next apartment. I even remember almost getting rid of them, thinking “Ugh why am I still holding on to these? It’ll be such a hassle. Maybe I should just throw them away.”
Man who was I?
I normally don’t attach much sentimental value to objects, but I’ve become very attached to these pieces of cardboard. Sure, the wall looks nice, but it’s not the main reason I’m so attached to it. Katie, who hates me and definitely doesn’t read this blog, once said “Johann’s beer wall is basically him saying ‘look how big my dick is’ only with beer.” Shit. Fucking. Wrecked.
But the real reason I’m so attached to the beer wall is because it’s a growing memento. Since there are no repeats, I’ve associated memories with each one. When I look at the wall, I don’t just see colors. I see stories. For almost every beer, I could tell you who I was with and where we were when we popped them open. And since the wall grows outward, I have a rough timeline of when all those good times happened. I love that so much.
The wall is also a reminder to appreciate the little things. If you look closely at a case of craft beer, you’ll notice it’s often partly drawn or painted. People decided on particular fonts, color schemes, and shapes to produce a piece of artwork that we barely pay attention to and throw away after a passing glance.
My precious beer wall is really just trash.
And my appreciation for the art that makes it beautiful is something I try to extend to everything else. From the circumference of the buttons on our shirts to the precisely calculated curvature in the glass of our front windshields, there is human thought, consideration, and effort in almost everything we see. So in a weird way, the beer wall reminds me not to take my fellow humans’ effort for granted.
As the wall’s grown, I’ve also learned each brewery’s distinct art style. Sierra Nevada and Deschutes usually have soft, fuzzy nature scenes. Stone and Firestone are consistently cool, dark, and sleek. Elysian likes bright, psychedelic, neon patterns. Lagunitas is always bold and rustic. And Ballast Point loves fish. You can kinda feel these breweries’ personalities in the art. It’s good stuff.
From the beginning, I knew the wall would eventually look awesome, but I didn’t know how much it would end up meaning to me. Even writing about it like this makes me tear up a little. It’s pretty crazy to imagine, but one day I might have a beer room. Maybe even a beer house. I’ve always been a dreamer.
Anyway, I thought it’d be fitting to end this with a top ten list of my favorite beers. Sometimes I’ll sip a new beer and go “Hmm that’s pretty damn good.” Other times I’ll even go “Whoa this beer is amazing.” These are beers that made me go “What the fuck.”
Incidentally, this list also contains some of the only beers I’ve ever repeat bought with no help to the beer wall. They were just that good.
In no particular order:
Stone Xocoveza (this is my favorite as of now)
Stone Mocha IPA
Sierra Nevada Kellwerweis (one of the original five that started the wall)
Ballast Point Calm Before The Storm
Belching Beaver Peanut Butter Milk Stout (I’ve repeat bought this a lot)
Samuel Smith’s Nut Brown Ale
Elysian Split Shot Espresso Milk Stout
Deschutes Black Butte Porter (first alcohol I ever bought)
Franziskaner Weissbier
Rogue Hazelnut Brown Nectar
With 221 cases at an average of about $11.50 each, the wall represents roughly $2541 in beer, which I definitely didn’t spend by myself. So HUGE thanks to the many, many friends who contributed. You know where you are on the wall.
