I didn't realize straightaway that a 'big one' PBR in these parts was some sort of giant 24 oz beery monstrosity. Temper that, North Carolina - we out of towners only manage to handle what we can. What I discovered outside of that idea was not much short of brilliant. Sketchy and brilliant. Both, in a giant salt shaker of 'yes please.'
The jukebox had something in the neighborhood of a 600 songs queued up, and I'm sure they were fine ones, but by the time I wrapped up that PBR and teetered off into the night, I was the beneficiary of some prime Southern hospitality. See ya later Thirsty Beaver, and and thanks for the chuckles.