LAS VEGAS, NV—Despite retaining an encyclopedia-like
knowledge of brewing, and, in particular, extremely rare craft beers, Roger
Conner, 44, of Las Vegas has failed to mask his alcoholism from friends,
family, and complete strangers.
"It's amazing, the stuff he knows," noted
long-suffering sister, Laura, 41. "Like the exact amount of hops that go
into a certain type of beer, and at which point in the brewing process you
should add them. He'll come over and talk about beer for hours. Then he usually
asks for money."
Roger's best friend of two decades, Travis Dunn, offers even
more insight.
"Roger's always been a bit of a beer snob," Travis
said with a grin. "I guess it was all the time he spent stationed in Germany,
getting spoiled by the beer and the women. He won't touch the 'swill' most of
our friends drink. He'll go on and on about how some microbrewery in Henderson has perfected
an India Pale Ale to the point it doesn't have even a hint of aftertaste. Then he'll
puke on my brand new slacks. But, hey. That's Roger!"
Keith Morrison, 24, a frequent patron of McElroy's Pub on
Vegas' famed Strip, had a different take on Roger.
"The guy's a total dick," Morrison opined, holding
a bloody bar rag to his forehead. "One minute he's talking about some kind
of ale monks brewed in 1554, the next he's screaming in my face that I screwed
some chick he dated like twenty years ago. I was like, 'What the hell dude? I
was four.' Then he hit me over the head with an eighteen-dollar bottle of cream
lager from Latvia.
I could taste it as it dripped down my face."
