Another afternoon at the bar. A fellow in this early 60s is muddling his way through the lunch menu. He’s wearing a blazer over a weird polo-ish shirt; the ensemble screams Sears bargain rack circa 1982. He surveys the nearby taps.
STYLISH FELLOW: What’s that New Glarus there? Is that a yellow beer?
BARTENDER: That’s the Moon Man. It’s a pale ale, nice hoppy flavor.
STYLISH FELLOW: Ya got anything else by them? I want a yellow beer.
BARTENDER: Are… are you more concerned about the brewery or the color?
STYLISH FELLOW: Huh?
BARTENDER: Do you want a beer specifically from New Glarus, or do you want a, um, yellow beer?
STYLISH FELLOW: I just want one’a them yellow beers.
BARTENDER: Okay. So when you say “yellow,” you mean…?
STYLISH FELLOW: I just don’t like dark beer.
BARTENDER: Right. So you want it to taste like a light beer or a hoppy beer? More flavor, less flavor?
STYLISH FELLOW: You know, a yellow beer.
BARTENDER: What beer do you normally like to drink? That might help me out.
STYLISH FELLOW: I like yellow beers.
BARTENDER: I… yes. Yellow. Can you give me an example?
STYLISH FELLOW: Oh, most all yellow beers.
BARTENDER: Can you be just a little more specific?
STYLISH FELLOW: Like a Miller High Life.
BARTENDER: There we go. I’m going to give you a pilsner from Lakefront. It’s called Klisch. [Pours a pint, sets it in front of the stylish fellow.]
STYLISH FELLOW: [Examines the glass gravely.] Yep, that’s yellow.
BARTENDER: It’s gratifying to know I’m not colorblind.