. . . most of even the well-run fests are no longer sampling events. They are merely opportunities to get pie-eyed on 35 dollars. I don’t know, maybe I’ve just gotten grumpier and crotchety in my old age. I just long for the days in my myopic memory, when festival attendees asked about the beers and styles and cautioned me about pouring a small sample so they could enjoy the rest of the fest. Or maybe that was a dream I had last night.
He finds a balance in his post, pointing out that there are still good festivals, and that some of this may be personal fatigue.
But he leaves you something to think about.