I was in Bruges, Belgium in 2007. I was 23 and just really getting into craft, and simply good beers. So there I was, in the bar of my hostel and throwing back beer after beer from different breweries and of different styles that I truly didn't understand yet, but I knew that I liked them over the swill that I had been drinking since I was a wee lad. While drinking, the bartender even informed me after ordering a certain beer that he didn't have the 'proper glassware' to put it in because they were all dirty. I've never heard of such wonders before! At one point in my life, a Pyramid tumbler would have been fine, but not anymore after I finally came up! So after drinking copious amounts of great beer and tipping the bartender handsomely (and also rocking out to The Stooges), he then uttered those fateful words to me: "I have this beer that I can only sell two of a day. If you want, I'll save one for you tomorrow morning." Hell yeah, it's on! I thought. And then I woke up with the worst hangover ever. I stumbled out of my room and to the bar, "Water, please..." "Hey man, here's that beer for you," the bartender proclaimed. I could barely mutter a "No... No thank you." And then I slouched over in the corner for a while before finally leaving and taking a train back to Paris. To this day, I will never forget the way that the bartender looked at me after I turned down my one and only chance I have ever had at drinking a Westvleteren XII.