During their European brewery expedition, a group of friends, including a man, entered a pub named “Eierschale.” It was their fourth stop, but things were not going as expected.
The Warsteiner beer didn’t look or taste the same. The man was accustomed to the typical white froth atop the glass, but the foam occupied two-thirds of the vessel. He used to relish the distinctive creamy, chilled blend of hops and malt, the dry finish, even the white residue it left after the initial sip. However, on this journey, he had to smell the foam before he could savor the beer.
“A cut of beer like in Munich – but at double the price,” the bartender stated with an uncomfortable grin. The man didn’t fully comprehend the meaning and was about to depart the establishment when a voice from behind him translated, “Half a glass of beer, twice the cost. Like a half-full glass, you know… We must remain optimistic in these times… I’m from East Berlin, you see!”
The man felt swindled, not entertained, and returned to his table with his glass.
Its true, they did seem remorseful. But a glass for nearly 15 euros, half of which was empty space, so they ought to apologize. They’re competing with the street vendors at Checkpoint Charlie, selling their Berlin air cans.
Before his journey, he’d heard about Germany’s new alcohol rules being a big deal. In fact, these regulations were a big deal across Europe, reminding him of those peculiar Covid years. Now looking at his glass of sparkling wine, thinking about how those bubbles stayed together and how much each bubble was worth, this person found himself feeling sorry for the bar staff.
Underneath his glass, he found a beer mat advertisement printed in four languages, likely paid for by the new regulatory body, all with stern warnings about the dangers of unlicensed establishments. But this clearly didn’t stop some underground bars from appearing around the city. One, ironically named Reinheitsgebot (named after the 1516 beer purity law that is now no longer in effect), was apparently the place to be. Offering 200 different beers, no Schnitts, and prices nearly 50% cheaper than elsewhere, it wasn’t hard to see why.
The strange thing was, despite the scare tactics and the obvious risk to their own patrons, even the bar staff suggested the place. Eierschale’s manager couldn’t argue either.
“They serve beer in old 1-liter Maß mugs,” he said with a sigh. “My Tuesday buy-one-get-one-free deal is prohibited, and I can’t sponsor the local football team.”
Whispers circulated that Oktoberfest could be called off, as beer makers threatened to withdraw.
During their initial stop on their Greek adventure, they struggled to locate a hidden drinking spot, as the authorities had established a new hotline urging citizens to report unauthorized establishments. Yet, they ultimately triumphed: the innkeeper found himself compelled to impose a 10-minute pause between each round, which only heightened the desire for a drink. Consequently, private gatherings, home brewing, and drinking clubs thrived in the nation.
One establishment they managed to enter had some scrawled jokes on the entrance: “Caution! Drinking intervals must not exceed 30 seconds. No entry for those over 99 years old.” This was likely the work of the owner, who welcomed patrons dressed as Peppa Pig. Not seeing anyone else in fancy attire, the individual never inquired if this was a statement or merely a tribute to their favorite childhood program. However, in this sweltering weather, there were no muddy puddles.
In Norway, he and his companions were disheartened by the stringent entrance policies and the regulation of only being able to drink while seated – just like in their own homes. Just as they were about to cut this portion of the journey short, someone suggested the now-renowned Sentralpuben at Oslo Central Station, where they spent the remainder of their time.
Sentralpuben is not categorized as a bar, meaning it can offer inexpensive beer and has a laid-back approach to affordability checks and identification.
This appeared out of place in a governmental building, but the fellow didn’t object. “I’m certain they won’t miss the beer stein I’m keeping as a memento,” he thought.
The man and his companions’ journey to Belgium didn’t begin well, as for some reason, food and beverages couldn’t be served in the same location. However, things rapidly improved once they downloaded the “JustSayWhere” application.
This subterranean drinking application was a top seller in the app store and was attempting to expand across borders. Apple was objecting to the instructions to prohibit the app, arguing that Android downloads would take over.
Event organizers on the app often requested prepayments, and quite a few partygoers were defrauded. But the rating system began to function, and genuine events were rising to the top of the list. Bitcoin at the door was another trend, and frequent venue modifications gave these gatherings a cult status and kept them one step ahead of the law. This man’s party days were far from over!
Beertrip.com had also just launched a few weeks ago, ranking beers, venues, and nations based on price, quality, accessibility, and availability. Regrettably, the man had already booked this trip, but he agreed with his friends to alter some of the routes on their next journey. Travel choices based on local drinking regulations were now a trend – those booze cruises sounded truly appealing.
It was unavoidable, their pub conversations often centered around European regulations and the cost of beer, accompanied by numerous heated debates. “Everyone’s a specialist now, misinformation is widespread,” he remarked. This was a far cry from the initial purpose of the beer tour, further confirming those unusual pandemic times. Some of his companions grumbled throughout the journey, while others enjoyed the challenge of discovering hidden bars.
However, he was struck by the sight of those two disheveled, unconscious partygoers at a private gathering a few days prior. They’d also witnessed a few scuffles. Without security, things could easily spiral out of control. One of his friends found it all quite humorous and seized every opportunity to make anti-establishment comments, but this guy wasn’t; with a family history of alcohol dependence, he knew addiction was a personal matter.
Back home, he heard some concerning statistics about alcohol issues on the news. An industry representative raised some valid concerns about how the data was collected, but then presented his own figures that didn’t really support his argument.
The days of Guinness being “good for you” and Australians not caring about XXXX were long gone; drinking wasn’t fashionable anymore, he thought. Even the so-called “Chief Mischief Maker” for a brewery had moved on.
This guy couldn’t help but feel that many of these regulations, if the goal was to decrease alcohol consumption, would only worsen the situation.
The whispers circulating about portable stomach pumps at social gatherings were a tad overblown, but the sight of two partygoers unconscious in the corner was a memory that wouldn’t fade.
“Envision the frozen refreshment stand patrons at bus stops in Belarus,” his companion remarked. It wasn’t clear if this was just a tale, but a quick online search confirmed some startling alcohol fatality statistics, though the reasons were unclear.
“We could incorporate a feature on the application: ‘Swing, don’t quit’, that’s what we’ll label it. Haha! Jägerbombs at the entryway, only exit strength,” his rebellious friend proclaimed. “Ah, but exclusively with Bitcoin. Okay, next is…”
He pressed his lips together, the thought of another Jägerbomb turning his stomach – but you can’t mention that on a beer tour.
Certain regulations seemed reasonable, such as refusing beverages to those with mobility issues, but others were counterproductive. He pondered, were the authorities simply bored? Did they perceive their role as constantly creating new regulations? Did they ever rescind any rules – or would that make you lose the Most Strict Regulator Award?
Everything here was prohibited unless explicitly authorized, and the Greek “neighborhood store” policy was a dreadful trend. He acknowledged his friend’s criticism, mirroring his own thoughts, “Now everyone’s a specialist,” he exhaled, gazing once more at the froth. “Why can’t we simply play together like these bubbles?”
Kevin Dale is a co-founder of Egamingmonitor.
In his prior role as the head of Gameaccount (now known as GAN plc), he previously held the position of Chief Marketing Officer for Eurobet, Sportingbet, and Betfair.
Egamingmonitor.com is a consulting company that specializes in the gambling industry, boasting exclusive data on 40,000 games from 1,300 vendors, obtained from 2,000 operator websites.
Picture: Hofbräuhaus Munich
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