Smiley: Tale of the bartender and the beer

I can't wind up our Dixie Beer seminar without telling my favorite Dixie story — again. It's one I tell every year or so (you younger folks don't know it, but when you reach a certain age you receive a license to tell the same story over and over). When I was a semiregular at the bar of The Pastime, a venerable Baton Rouge restaurant/watering hole, the bartender was the gruff but lovable Joe Lipp (real name Lippian). I was a Bud drinker, but one day, for some reason, I ordered a Dixie. Joe told me he didn't have Dixie. So of course the next time I was in I ordered a Dixie. He told me again, obviously irritated this time, that they didn't carry it. The next time I was there I asked for Dixie again, and this went on for quite a long time, with Joe getting progressively more agitated. One day a Pastime regular called me and said he had run into Joe at a supermarket, buying a six-pack of Dixie. Joe had confided to him that he was going to put it in the cooler to shut me up the next time I came in. The next day when I sat down at the bar Joe came up and, loudly enough for the crowd to hear, said, "I guess you want a Dixie." I replied, "Nah, gimme a Bud."