This past Friday and Saturday The Slayer was in attendance at the Fifth Annual Southeastern Microbrewers Invitational in Durham, NC. Although this event has been held for the past five years (for those of you who lost concentration during the first sentence, this makes it the fifth annual), The Slayer has had the priviledge of attending only the past two sot soirees. With press pass hanging about his neck, making him feel almost like a real journalist, The Slayer strode into the event with a heart full of hope, love and anticipation. Like a sailor on shore leave in a foreign city, The Slayer was looking for love of an exotic nature (the kind only beer can give); that which he had never tasted before. He was not to be disappointed, for like a stroll through Amsterdam's red light district, new and unique wonders were on display everywhere he turned. Though the thrill of the chase and ultimate capture is missing from events like this, they save The Slayer considerable time by bringing beers from around the country to one place. Still, The Slayer can't help but feel like he is hunting lions at the Toledo Zoo. Since there was not to be the sport and romance of bringing down Wild Goose IPAís with hip shots from his trusty church key or bludgeoning baby Red Seal Ales with a weighty pint glass, The Slayer had to take solace in the cornicopia of flavorful beers he was about to intake. And, oh my, there were plenty of brews from which to choose. One fellow event goer, upon seing the vast array of malt beverage treats on display, called it a ìcandy store for adults.î Since The Slayer did not catch his name, history can feel free to credit him with this phrase. With so many delectible choices in the festival hall, The Slayer, after several deep breaths into a paper bag to stop his hyperventilation, had to pause and map out a plan of attack. Using a compass, protractor and the Pathagrian theorum, he devised an ingenious circle-triangle battle plan. It was so clever that The Slayer was sure General Rommelís Panzers would have spun themselves into the sand of the Sahara trying to defend it. With maps in his pack, night-vision glasses strapped to his belt (in case of an unexpected power outage) and commemorative tasting vessel in hand, The Slayer set out to conquor the Southeastern Microbrewersí Invitational. What he had thought would be an uncomplicated mission quickly turned messy. In his calculations, he had not counted on the hoards of civilian pedestrians who clogged the events aisleways. Though he is not averse to the idea of collateral damage and loss of innocent life, The Slayer knew that no matter how grand his victory, historians would paint him as a barbarian should a great number of harmless beer drinkers perish in his quest to plant the Beer IS Love flag atop Malt Beverage Hill. Discretion being the greater part of valor, he altered his plan slightly to accomidate the common rabble. The Slayer began his assualt on the Southeastern Microbrewersí Invitational by flexing air might and downing Flying Dog Doggie Style Pale Ale. This brew, whose style is as commonplace to craft brewing as intoxicated Hessians were to Washington when he landed in Trenton, NJ, had a colorful, unique label and name which immediately caught the eye of The Slayer. Fully aware that the homely catepillar can become a beautiful butterfly and that digitalis contained within the lovely flower of the foxglove plant can kill a man, The Slayer knew that Doggie styleís worth could not be judged by its markings. Its whatís inside that matters. This pale ale was amber in color with a slight nondescript white head. The aroma was slightly malty, but mostly had the scent of hops. Itís flavor began pleasingly malty with hop bitterness quickly taking over and giving the brew a nice clean finish. Doggie Style Pale Ale was about as complex as the style allows and was quickly and enjoyably vanquished by The Slayer. Next stop for The Slayer was the city Sherman, one of his Yankee heroes, burned to the ground. Yes, The Slayer went to the booth of Atlantaís Sweetwater Brewing Company to continue the legacy of Northern aggresion by anihilating the breweryís beers. Though easily conquered, one of this companyís brews, Sweetwater Blue, left a lasting impression on The Slayerís palate. The reason he was so enamored with this beer was the fact that it was fruit beer, more specifically a blueberry ale. Generally, The Slayer has little taste or respect for such fu-fu concoctions. However, Sweetwater Blue, though totally blueberry in aroma and flavor, was pleasing to The Slayer because the fruit essence was that of fresh berries, not the sickeningly artificial sweetness produced by extracts and purees. In fact, the beer was so naturally made that it was not synthetically blue in color (one of The Slayerís laws of survival is never eat blue food), but rather it had the straw yellow hue of itís American Pale Ale base. Since he was already cutting a swath of empty beer vessels through the Peach State, The Slayer decided to bring his unsatiated thirst for beershed to the booth of Athens Georgiaís Blind Man Ale. As if ripped from the script of any war movie, the first beer to fall was the breweries black Espresso Stout. This opaque, ebony brew with a full, delightfully creamy, tan head had the intoxicating aroma of chocolate and espresso with a hint of black patent malt. As The Slayer tasted it, he thought he was drinking a heavy Starbucks coffee concoction. If a sightless man was responsible for the brewing of this beer, Blind Man Aleís Espresso Stout is certain proof that the American Disabilities Act is working to better all our lives. Another fine ale crafted by the Helen Keller Brewing School alumnus at Blind Man Ale was the breweryís India Brown Ale. Though he knows no such style exists, the company merely giving its American Brown Ale an anglo feel, The Slayer shook his aversion to cutesy beer marketing misnomers when he tasted of the brew. This hazelnut colored ale with an adequate, ecru head and balanced hop and malt aroma was very pleasing to his palate. The scents eminating from the brew played right on through to its flavor, making it one of the most complex American Browns he had ever tasted. Volumes can and will be written of The Slayerís conquests at the Southeasert Microbrewersí Invitational. The Slayer will save these tales for future columns. As expected, he was victorious; planting the Beer IS Love flag atop Malt Beverage Hill. After his triumph, his newly acquired, beer loving subjects regaled him with The Slayer Anthem, ìGod Save the Beer.î