Can’t tell about other corners of the states, but in Atlanta it’s not very difficult to bump into craft beer. The actual selection, be it tap or fridge, might be not always your taste, but for me as investigative foreigner it was quite pleasing. Like Fat Matt’s Rib Shack, for instance. They might have the best blues in town - played by a band aged between 40 and 90 I’d say - but not the biggest selection. But why would I bicker when the first pitcher was just getting filled with Fu Manbrew’s IPA? And the second (not pictured) with Terrapin’s Rye Pale Ale? The music was just as great as advertised, the spare ribs just as great as advertised, and the beers came so well with the food, woohoo! I had a revelation, what an IPA’s place in the world should be: paired with spare ribs and barbecue sauce. Fat Matt’s sauce, to be more precise. The “dessert” beer, Lonerider’s Sweet Josie Brown Ale, roasty dark and sweet, didn’t touch any strings, but this didn’t affect the evening good mood. So, off we went for a dark walk along whatever street, looking for the next bar for something different: a band playing “ragtime” officially - but for me more like modern-country-rock-violin-white-trash-something. Not bad and the Sierra Nevada Torpedo Double IPA (served in the wrong glass, who cares) wasn’t bad either. The bbq sauce was still in the air, ah sweet tasty memories. Unfortunately the band ended way too soon their concert so we decided to move on, Just… where? There was a little fight between the strip bar and the gay bar factions (just imagine how trashed we must have been), and the gay bar won because it was just around the corner. There’s my message to any drag queens reading this: a shiny frock does NOT make up for a show. Go get some dance lessons first, will ya? The beer wasn’t very satisfying either: The Misdemeanor Ale from the local guys of JailHouse Brewing just didn’t cut it. Maybe because of the IPA streak I had before, maybe because I was already too tired, meh. Time to hail a cab and head back to the hotel.