Nickel Beer

 

Nickel Beer Night (But Not Our First Date)

For years, Tom an I had a friendly disagreement about what counted as our first date. In early October, 1975, our college town held an Oktoberfest celebration featuring nickel beer night. A group of housemates and neighbors walked to the gazebo, bought five‑cent beers, danced, and enjoyed the fall evening. We talked within the group, but it was still very much a group outing.

Our living arrangements were stacked in a modest three‑story house: Tom and his buddy in the attic, an English teacher on the main floor, and my roommate and I in the basement. Most mornings, I heard Tom leave for class—clump clump clump clump down the attic stairs, then the back door slamming.

But on October 4, 1975 the rhythm changed. Instead of heading out the back door, Tom continued down the basement stairs and walked straight into the kitchen, where i was fixing lunch. Without preamble he asked, "Are you going out to dinner with me tonight or not?" I was broke at the time, so I asked asked who was paying. Tom said he would. I said then I will go. I know now that he has conversations with himself, turning over ideas, plans, and theories in his head. I suspect his lack of any opening conversation and the “are you going or not” phrasing with me was due to his having been talking to himself for quite a while.

He took me to a Cattleman’s Inn restaurant where he ordered sautéed mushrooms as an appetizer. It was, I think, the first time I ever had mushrooms at all. They were delicious.

That, not the group outing, was our true first date.

Years later, when I told this story to nieces at a nephew’s wedding, I got as far as “nickel beer night.” The nieces looked at each other wide‑eyed and said, “Forget the first date. What is nickel beer?”

They seemed skeptical that a glass of beer was ever a nickel. I think they may have suddenly realized how ancient I was!