Mad Pubs and Englishmen

Beer, ale, suds, a pint or two - all music to my ears. I love beer and I'm not ashamed to say it! Since the summer of 1973 when the brother and sister and I escorted our grandmother to sunny Florida and the fabulous Busch Gardens, I have loved beer. The day was a typical hot Florida scorcher and we had just completed the tour of the brewery when, lo and behold, the end of the tour featured samples of their freshly-brewed golden nectar. Until then, beer had been something that I had choked down with my teenaged peers to appear more manly. The tour changed all that.
Ice cold and refreshing, the small cup I had that day turned me into a true beer lover. I then had another cup, and another until I was feeling not only refreshed but quite dizzy as well. I was hooked from that moment on. Oh, c'mon, I don't have a problem with the stuff. As a matter of fact I can only have a few these days before I start thinking 'beddy-bye'. But I do love the flavor and the thirst-quenching properties of the heavenly ambrosia.
Fast forward to May 2008. I'm in London on a long-awaited vacation to see the city and all that it has to offer. Or at least what I can cram in in four days. And this brings me to the pubs. How can you go to London and not participate in a pub crawl?
The city is perfect for 'crawling'. As long as you can crawl to the tube after you hit the pubs you can drink for as long as you want and then, without even hailing a cab, you can make your way back to your room in one piece (just be careful crossing the streets). Besides seeing the historical side of London, a big reason that I was here was to have a pint or two in a real English pub. So I bellied up to the bar in some of the city's oldest and newest. The recent indoor smoking ban in restaurants and bars had moved large crowds of people outside and a result was that every pub had a party atmosphere that spilled out onto the sidewalks. Add to this the British soccer championship that was going on and the parties got even wilder. Each evening would find me in Leicester Square or Covent Garden or just walking around the city until I saw the right place to have a pint. As I would slide up to the bar and order a pint there would ultimately be a bloke to my left or right asking the familiar "are you American?" I answered yes. "How do you feel about President Bush?"
"I hate him", I would answer. "Buy this man a pint!" And so it went with almost every place I went. I would either be the recipient of a free pint or two or would find that my tab had been picked up by someone. I found myself outside with the smokers, bellowing to the top of my lungs "Go Leeds!" or "Manchester Rules!" along with whatever team this particular crowd would be backing. What a blast!
The Albert in Regents Park, the Anchor Public House, Shepherds Tavern, The Sherlock Holmes, The Bear and Staff - along with a couple whose names escape me - all fine taverns with friendly staffs and rowdy, lovable crowds. And the Ale? Stout, full of flavor and easy to go down. What more could a beer lover ask for?