The Spirit World

This isn’t the article I wanted to write. I wanted to be able to tell you about all the different beers I tasted. I wanted to write about what Garrett Oliver and Phil Markowski said. I wanted to tell you that I saw the Beer Goddess. Instead all I have to report is a story of frustration and disappointment. (And yes, that is a black square to the left of this text. It represents what I and many others were allowed to see of the Long Island Beer Festival.)

The story begins in March when I found an announcement on the web about the Long Island Beer Festival. On March 17th, I purchased tickets to the event. I paid $90 for two tickets. Nearly two months of anticipation pass. Finally, May 12th arrives. My wife and I drop our son off at the sitter’s house and then make the half hour drive out to Melville, New York.

When we get to the Huntington Hilton, we can hear the roar of conversation. The convivial banter of hundreds of people in an outdoor space drinking beer. Through the windows I can see wall to wall people inside, jam packed like commuters on a bus at rush hour. My wife and I head toward the door and a bald guy in a blue sport coat steps up making a sawing motion with his hands like some quarter back had just made an incomplete pass. “If you’re going to the beer festival, there’s no more tickets,” he says.

“But I have tickets,” I say. And I hold up my two tickets to prove it.

“Doesn’t matter,” he says. “They aren’t letting anybody else in. There’s too many people inside already.”

“But I paid $90 for these tickets,” I say.

“Too bad,” he says. “Nobody else can go in.”

There is another couple that walked up a the same time as we did. They protest as well, but the bald guy holds his ground. Nobody is getting into the Beer Festival.

“Only people with VIP tickets can get in at this point,” the bald guy says.

“I’m a beer writer,” I say. “I’m covering this event for The Spirit World.”

“Do you have a VIP ticket?”

“No,” I say.

“Then you ain’t gettin’ in.”

“But I have to write an article about the Beer Festival,” I say. “My readers are depending on me.”

“Make something up,” the guy says. “Now go home.”

My wife grabs my arm and gives it a gentle tug. “Come on,” she says.

Tails between our legs we limp back to the car.

It’s difficult to describe my feelings about not getting into the Long Island Beer Festival. I felt like a sucker. Paying out $90 bucks two months a head of time just to be turned away because the organizers had oversold the event. I had encouraged many of my friends to go. I had spent my valuable writing time promoting the event only to be turned away. Part of me felt like a second class citizen. I kept hearing the guy say, “Unless you have a VIP ticket… Unless you have a VIP ticket…”

The overwhelming feeling was having missed something. It was like missing your airplane. You arrive at the airport and they tell you that the plane is gone already. There’s nothing you can do. You’ve missed it. The utter irrevocability of our being banned from the beer festival was maddening. I wanted to complain to the organizer and explain just how I felt.

So I wrote a letter to Shoreline Beverage, the event’s sponsor, to express my disappointment and to ask what they intended to do to compensate the people who were turned away at the door. Their response was only a one line reply instructing me to call a 888 number to apply for a refund.

I’m glad that the Long Island Beer Festival generated the interest it did, but I’m afraid that a lot of damage was done to the beer community on Long Island in bad public relations. Here are my suggestions for Shoreline Beverage. If you oversell your event, you should set up a table outside to intercept the people who have already paid you $90 and whom you are turning away and (1) apologize for the inconvenience you have caused, (2) assure them that they will get a full refund, (3) offer them beer swag as a consolation, and (4) a promise that next years event will (a) not be oversold or (b) be held at a larger venue.