This is all the more important because the man I have followed home, the one with the bottomless case of beer, is an English teacher at the same college where I teach Physics to three sections of glassy-eyed freshman.

Sometimes, the bubbles made a thin line that rose to the top—and that meant change, for the better, though the winds might turn. Sometimes they gathered at the bottom, which meant a long wait or delay in a hopeful outcome.

By the time Allen fired up the grill at The Great Midwest Beer Fest, we were already food truck experts,…