The camaraderie with friends this past weekend was nice. We caught an amazing sunset Friday night. Enjoyed some great food and tasty beverages. Soaked our cares away in a hot tub. But the best part about our weekend getaway to Ocean Park, Washington?
I found Snap-E-Tom in a local grocery store and picked up a few cans!
OK, “a few” might be an understatement. I think 39 is a perfectly reasonable number considering this stuff is harder to find than a Muslin woman wearing a Trump 2016 button. You might remember my obsession with this product; it dates back to last summer in Park City, when I picked up a can in a grocery store on a whim. One sip and I was hooked. Unfortunately, I didn’t take that sip until after we’d gotten back home; otherwise I’d have loaded up the trunk in Utah ’cause, as great as Portland is, they are not a Snap-E-Tom-friendly town. And yet, there’s Pabst Blue Ribbon up the wazoo. Further proof that injustice runs rampant in the world.
We were able to find Snap-E-Tom in Ely over New Year’s, but Ridley’s only had 13 cans on the shelf. Naturally, I bought them all, but have been hoarding them like crazy ever since [see: Muslim woman, PBR, injustice].
What’s so great about Snap-E-Tom, you might be wondering. It’s sort of like V-8, right? And that shit’s a dime a dozen. Well, yes, it is sort of like V-8…only a bajillion times better. Must be all the sodium. It’s got a great little kick, too. I heart the stuff [but you already knew that].
Fast-forward to this weekend. We rented a beach house in Ocean Park, Washington because we had friends visiting from Sacramento (hello there, Heidi and Ross!) and Oregon (yo, Chris!) and wanted to take them to the Astoria Wine, Seafood & Crab Festival. [It might actually be the Seafood, Wine & Crab Fest. Or the Crab, Seafood & Wine Fest. Or the Wine, Crab & Seafood Fest. I’m unclear on the exact order of things. Considering all the fermented grape juice vendors there, it might actually be the Wine, Wine & Wine Fest. I’d Google it but I’m feeling lazy.] In any case, we were having a grand ol’ time. The house we rented was a beautiful remodeled older place with hardwood floors, a spacious kitchen and dining room, and a hot tub. Score! We spent a good number of hours drinking, eating, listening to music, laughing, and swapping stories. Caught a magnificent sunset Friday evening. Did the whatever-it’s-called-Festival Saturday. That evening, after a dinner of braised short ribs that were to die for (Ross: recipe? Please?), Tara ran out of beer, so I walked to the local Thriftway to grab her some more. And decided, what the hell, they won’t have it, but I might as well check the beverage aisle on the off chance that this small barely-a-bend-in-the-road coastal Washington town might sell Snap-E-Tom.
Imagine my surprise when I found the stuff on the shelf. I’m embarrassed to admit this, guys, but I actually squealed. Might have uttered something like “sweet baby Jesus!” too, drawing stares from the other late-night shoppers. I didn’t even have a cart because I was just there for a six-pack of Bud Light, but I grabbed every can I could find, piled them in my arms, and made my way to the checkout stand.
“You sell Snap-E-Tom!” I said to the cashier, my voice positively oozing excitement.
“Yeah,” she replied, oddly not sharing in my jubilation.
“You don’t understand,” I continued. “This stuff is impossible to find back home!”
“Great. Paper or plastic?”
Some people just don’t appreciate their own good fortune. I staggered back to the house (all those cans of Snap-E-Tom were heavy!) and burst through the door. “You’ll never believe what I found!” I told our guests. Heidi, Ross, and Chris were about as enthused as the Thriftway cashier, but Tara at least recognized the momentousness of the occasion. She squealed, too.
And now we can stop hoarding Snap-E-Tom, because next time we are running low, I know where we can find more!
It’s just a short 5-hour round trip away…