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Charles

A Night on the Town in Antwerp with Charles

Alright folks, the other weekend was one to remember. My friend Jim and I decided to visit the city of Antwerp. My boss recommended it because he tremendously enjoyed the Belgian beer and had some snapshots that intrigued me, so we decided to take the trip.

After arriving in the city and wandering about for a few hours, we got lost (needless to say), so we stopped at the best place to ask for directions, the nearest bar (also needless to say). As soon as we showed our map and said that we needed directions, the bartendress introduced us to a man named Charles.

Charles was about 50 years old or so, had a graying, yet neatly trimmed beard, and a bit of a gut. The neatly trimmed beard was on account of him being a barber as we later discovered. The beer gut was on account of him being a connoisseur of fine beer.

After explaining to us, using a combination of broken English and hand gestures, we realized that we had driven out of the area covered on our street map. This made sense as we were lost and nothing we saw resembled anything on the map. According to Charles, the only way we could get to where any good bars were (which is what we were seeking of course) was to take him in the car with us as a guide. This struck us as strange, as normal people don’t do such a thing. However, because he seemed entirely too harmless to be a psychopath and since both me and Jim experienced hundreds of culture shocks since we had arrived in Europe, we decided “why not?” So we gave ol’ Charles the nod and walked to the car. “Hey,” said Charles, “it’s the best we can do.”

We got to my car, a 2002 Pontiac Firebird. The site of my car, which was very unusual in Europe, caused a thrill in our newfound friend. “Oh my god-ness!” Charles exclaimed, “you drove all the way from America!” And so we began our quest for bars in Antwerp.

“Ok, turn right here. Ok, it curves, gently, gently, good! You’re doing good, it’s the best we can do.” rattled Charles. My desire to drink the famed Belgian beer helped me quell my urge to bash his head against my dashboard. “I’m sorry that my English is not too good.” Charles said in between direction giving and coaching my driving. “No, Charles, we can understand.” said Jim, “You’re doing good.”
“No,” said Charles with a goofy grin, “I do my best – it’s the best I can do.” Well, at least the guy was logical. If he didn’t do his best, it most definitely would not be the best he could do, so it follows.

After parking my car (with continual coaching from Charles, of course) we started to walk to the bar Charles wanted to show us, which was in fact, no where near where Charles had me park. As we walked, Charles went on about how this bar had some of the greatest beer in all of Belgium. “You’ve heard of Michael Jackson, yes?” Charles asked. We agreed, of course we heard of Michael Jackson. “Not the singer, the beer specialist!” We had a lot to learn about Belgium. He explained how the bar we were going to had a special, temperature controlled room specially for beer storage. He explained that once we got an idea of our tastes, he would select the best beer possible to drink. He explained how everyone knows him at this bar. All this explaining made him visibly excited.

So, we entered in the bar, and Charles introduced everyone to his new, American friends. We sat down and Charles began questioning us. Do we like our beer sweet, bitter, or sour, do we like our beer dark or light, how strong do we like our beer, etc. Finally, he concluded his questions by slapping the table with the palm of his hand and stated “Ok, I have got a beer for you!” And he ordered us both a beer. We were served up a beer called Orval, which was probably the best beer I had ever drank until that point. So, we had a few Orvals and talked with Charles about his views on life, beer, women, and Belgium (which we found out has the worlds brightest streetlights, visible from space).

After the fourth Orval, we parted company with Charles, probably to never see him again. “Charles, we had an awesome time with you,” said Jim as we shook hands with Charles. “Charles, my friend, you’re a good man.” I added. To these compliments, Charles smiled and merely stated “It’s the best I can do.”

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