But then I spied, sitting by itself on a table, a ginormous bottle of Russian River’s Temptation. Its name was never more appropriate than at that moment, because it sat there teasing me, and everyone else around me. It seemed to whisper, “open me.” But I just stood there willing it to open, hoping if I just stared at it long enough it would spill open its contents. I grabbed a Chimay glass with the Toronado logo on the reverse side thoughtfully provided by Manneken-Brussel Imports, on the off chance that my attempts at telekinesis worked.

Others took even more extreme measures, as Tomme Arthur, brewmaster at The Lost Abbey, and Ed Friedland, a Philadelphia beer distributor in town for a family vacation, tried flipping off the bottle perhaps hoping to antagonize it and make it blow its top. Or perhaps they were thinking about stealing it for themselves? Nah, they’d never do that.

Eventually, Vinnie Cilurzo returned to the table to open the bottle, dragging an entourage of thirsty souls hoping for a taste of Temptation. Like us, they’d already been tempted and in the absence of any Salvation were hoping to taste some golden Temptation instead.

Fittingly, Dave Keene got the first pour since it was the inspiration he’d fostered over the last twenty years that was the reason we were all there in the first place. As he stood back to enjoy his first sip of Temptation, the rest of the throng rushed forward, glass outstretched, like panhandlers hoping for a handout, to get a little slice of heaven.