Red Racer, Red Racer finally headed way, way down under
It has taken nearly three months and several trips to the Post
Office, but beer for my bud in far-off New Zealand is finally, as they say, in
the mail.
The quest to get some Red Racer IPA to my pal Steve, a
former college roommate now living in Wellington, New Zealand, has turned out
to be a far longer project than I anticipated. Part of it can be attributed to
my special skills at procrastination and part of it to insane postal fees to
ship anything bigger than a letter to distant destinations.
(I should note for the record that it is illegal to ship
beer without a special permit. I don’t think I have customs officials on this
blog’s read list but if I do and you are one of them, please to ignore everything you’ve
read so far. I’m sending pictures of beer to Steve; just like the one below. Not real beer. Just so we
have that straight.)
The idea of Steve needing good beer is laughable on its own anyway as he lives in Wellington, one of the
world’s great beer cities. (Seriously. This place would give San Diego a run for its money as the IPA capital of the world.) But he can’t get Red Racer IPA, the pride of Surrey,
B.C. And he really, really wants to try Red Racer IPA.
 |
| Pictures of beer, Mr. Customs guy. Just pictures |
Lohin’s signature beer, Red Racer IPA, has won bushels of
medals at the Canadian Brewing Awards and I can personally tell you it’s an
awesome IPA.
But Central City does not ship their fine ales to New
Zealand and Steve was long gone down under before his pal started up the
brewery.
And so began the quest to get him some.
But before you think this was a selfless act of altruism, I
should mention that this mission would not have happened if I hadn’t lost a
bet.
Steve’s a Toronto Maple Leaf hater and while I usually try
to ignore his barbs, I couldn’t turn down a wager on the Leafs making the
playoffs, especially as they were sitting pretty at the time - seven points clear in the middle of March, in fact. But there's a reason you should beware the Ides of March and the season went south fast as my Leafs went 2-14 to close out the final month, missing the playoffs by nine and ending their consecutive seasons in the playoffs record at ... one.
Much to the delight of Steve, of course.
We had bet beer on the outcome. (What else?) Red Racer against some excellent New Zealand IPA. Epic Hot Zombie Panhead or something.
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| Steve in his favourite place: The Malthouse |
We had bet beer on the outcome. (What else?) Red Racer against some excellent New Zealand IPA. Epic Hot Zombie Panhead or something.
I figured this
beer mailing thing would be easy peasy. I must have forgotten the difficulties I had shipping US beers from Florida earlier in the year. Be careful with my beer!
Six would do the trick, I thought, and bought Headstock from Nickel Brook; Boneshaker from Amsterdam; and Mad Tom from Muskoka to showcase the best of Ontario IPAs. The ones available in cans, anyway. (I've seen baggage handlers do their thing. No way am I sending bottles.)
Then I added a trio of Red Racers, made an educated guess to the weight and checked with Canada Post to see what it would cost to ship it.
A zillion dollars, they said. At least.
"Uh, how about four beers instead of six," I asked Steve, with one of the two 'extra' beers already in my glass. "You don't need to do this, Glenn," assured my five foot 19 pal. "It sounds too expensive."
"No worries," says I. If I can get the package under two kilos it's just $27. I can do $27."
So I carefully bubble wrapped and re-bubble wrapped two Red Racers and two Headstocks - a little Ontario vs B.C IPA Challenge, as it were - and wrapped it again in cool Spider-Man paper and took it to the my nearest Canada Post outlet for mailing.
2.136 kilograms, said the scale. "$68," said the humourless man behind the counter.
And back home I go to try and trim 136 grams from my package. Which I hoped would be less painful than it sounded.
It was many days later before I was back at Canada Post - a different outlet this time - with my slimmed down parcel of goodness, ready to be weighed again and feeling like a punch-drunk boxer trying desperately to make weight for one final prize fight.
"2.069 kilos," says the young lady at the scales, flashing me an 'I know you're up to something look' at the same time. "$68."
I innocently asked her if she could just "call it two kilos" and she looked at me like I was asking her to commit treason. "What's in it," she probed suspiciously. "Gifts," answered I. "Figurines. For my nephew."
And back home I go. Again.
The package, which at this point has been re-wrapped so many times it could have played a stunt double in the The Mummy (the classic 1999 Brendan Fraser version), now felt exactly like three cans of beer wrapped in Spider-Man paper.
Which, as noted above, is illegal.
So I re-wrapped it again, minus one of the cans of Headstock. (I'm not fighting Canada Post on this one. Three beer is what you're getting Steve. Besides, I was thirsty.) And took it back, once more, to Canada Post. I hit up a different outlet once again, where I met a really nice young lady who filled out the necessary forms for me and charged me $27 for my package, now weighing in at a svelte 1.75 kilos.
Success.
There's still loads of time for calamity to happen here, however, as my $27 gets me the cheapest and slowest route to New Zealand. My beer, which was shipped from Vancouver to Oshawa in the first place, will go on ground transport back to Vancouver. Upon arrival at our most beautiful city, my package will go on the back of a sea turtle working under contract and we will all hope for the best.
Six to eight weeks, she said, though I say it will be there sooner. It's wrapped in really cool Spider-Man wrapping paper, so as long as the turtle didn't see Spider-Man 3, I should be okay.
The sooner the better, because it's impolite to remind Steve that I won the return bet on the Stanley Cup Final - how did your Rangers do old pal? - until I have delivered on my end of the bargain.
I can taste that Epic Hot Zombie Panhead already. I'm hoping I get it before Christmas.
Six would do the trick, I thought, and bought Headstock from Nickel Brook; Boneshaker from Amsterdam; and Mad Tom from Muskoka to showcase the best of Ontario IPAs. The ones available in cans, anyway. (I've seen baggage handlers do their thing. No way am I sending bottles.)
Then I added a trio of Red Racers, made an educated guess to the weight and checked with Canada Post to see what it would cost to ship it.
A zillion dollars, they said. At least.
"Uh, how about four beers instead of six," I asked Steve, with one of the two 'extra' beers already in my glass. "You don't need to do this, Glenn," assured my five foot 19 pal. "It sounds too expensive."
"No worries," says I. If I can get the package under two kilos it's just $27. I can do $27."So I carefully bubble wrapped and re-bubble wrapped two Red Racers and two Headstocks - a little Ontario vs B.C IPA Challenge, as it were - and wrapped it again in cool Spider-Man paper and took it to the my nearest Canada Post outlet for mailing.
2.136 kilograms, said the scale. "$68," said the humourless man behind the counter.
And back home I go to try and trim 136 grams from my package. Which I hoped would be less painful than it sounded.
It was many days later before I was back at Canada Post - a different outlet this time - with my slimmed down parcel of goodness, ready to be weighed again and feeling like a punch-drunk boxer trying desperately to make weight for one final prize fight.
"2.069 kilos," says the young lady at the scales, flashing me an 'I know you're up to something look' at the same time. "$68."
I innocently asked her if she could just "call it two kilos" and she looked at me like I was asking her to commit treason. "What's in it," she probed suspiciously. "Gifts," answered I. "Figurines. For my nephew."
And back home I go. Again.
 |
| If you're at the airport and see a package looking anything like this, do not draw attention to it. Look away. Look far away |
Which, as noted above, is illegal.
So I re-wrapped it again, minus one of the cans of Headstock. (I'm not fighting Canada Post on this one. Three beer is what you're getting Steve. Besides, I was thirsty.) And took it back, once more, to Canada Post. I hit up a different outlet once again, where I met a really nice young lady who filled out the necessary forms for me and charged me $27 for my package, now weighing in at a svelte 1.75 kilos.
Success.
There's still loads of time for calamity to happen here, however, as my $27 gets me the cheapest and slowest route to New Zealand. My beer, which was shipped from Vancouver to Oshawa in the first place, will go on ground transport back to Vancouver. Upon arrival at our most beautiful city, my package will go on the back of a sea turtle working under contract and we will all hope for the best.
Six to eight weeks, she said, though I say it will be there sooner. It's wrapped in really cool Spider-Man wrapping paper, so as long as the turtle didn't see Spider-Man 3, I should be okay.
The sooner the better, because it's impolite to remind Steve that I won the return bet on the Stanley Cup Final - how did your Rangers do old pal? - until I have delivered on my end of the bargain.
I can taste that Epic Hot Zombie Panhead already. I'm hoping I get it before Christmas.
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