Two hours before the wedding, I plunked my wares down on the counter. The clerk looked them over and asked me a simple question.

"You having a beer-tasting?" he inquired pleasantly. As I had presented him with three six-packs, two four-packs and three individual bottles of beer, well, this question made perfect sense.

"Nope," I said simply. And while I knew he expected me to elaborate on my answer, to give him something that would allow him to continue the conversation for as long as it took to ring me up, I remained silent. For my purchase told a secret as to my identity, and I wanted him to guess. I could tell that he was a curious fellow, and I knew he would ask another question.

He looked at me closely, glanced down at the brews he was scanning, and then he asked his second question.

"You're from North Carolina, aren't you."

Yes, indeed. I was standing in the Village Wine and Beer shop in Richmond, purchasing what we beer cognoscenti like to refer to as "high-gravity" beers. High gravity refers to the amount of malt in the unfermented beer, which is measured in degrees of specific gravity. Generally speaking, the more malt in the recipe, the more alcohol that results. Usually beers with more than 7% alcohol by volume are considered high gravity (compare this with your Budweiser, which usually comes in between 4% and 5% ABV). By that measure, not all of my purchases were high-gravity, but they were of a higher gravity than the state of North Carolina allows. See, in my fine state you can't purchase beer that contains more than 6% ABV. In fact, due to somewhat excessive enforcement, you can't buy beer with more than 5.5% ABV, since 5.5 rounds up to 6 and thus would be higher than allowed. Or something like that. Basically, no one (including a state official) has ever been able to explain why Sierra Nevada Stout (5.8% ABV) is illegal in this state, except that it is and I can't buy it anywhere.

I bought some Harpoon IPA, Spaten Optimator, Samuel Smith's Imperial Stout, McEwan's Scotch Ale, Unibroue Maudite and some really weird Belgian stuff, including a bottle of something called Delerium Tremens. The Delerium has dancing pink elephants on its label. It was an impulse buy; there's just no way I could pass up something like that.

Anyway, the clerk and I talked a bit about the general stupidity of beer and liquor laws (Virginia still has state liquor stores) while he bagged my booty. I then paid the rather substantial bill (high-gravity beers carry a high-gravity price tag) and boogied back to the motel to get ready for the wedding of two people I'd never met before in my life (relatives on the wife's side).

After the blessed event (Southern Baptist style, no less, including all the requisite "wifely submission" crap) and reception, Barbara and I had some time to kill. I suggested a quest, a hunt for more beer that's unavailable in North Carolina. I figured we'd need to stop at just one grocery store to pick up a six of the Sierra Nevada Stout or something similar.

Well, the first place we stopped, Ukrops, doesn't even sell beer. We thought this might be a repeat of our Pennsylvania experience, but no. Ukrops doesn't sell beer because its owners are moral people.

Those were the last words I needed to hear at 5 minutes to 10 on a Saturday night.

So then we tried a couple other stores, which apparently closed at 10 p.m. Who ever heard of a grocery story closing at 10? Well, this is a Virginia thing. At least, it's a suburban Richmond thing. We did find a Kroger that hadn't quite closed (though it was trying), but they didn't have anything we couldn't find in good ol' N.C.

What we ended up doing was wandering almost to downtown Richmond, kinda looking around more than looking for beer. Saw a real big crowd around the Nader for President office (probably all of his voters in the state). Saw a lot of "old money" houses. Figured out that there's a reason the town is called RICHmond.

In other words, we saw lots of pretty houses, a few kids staggering about in the warm fall air, and scant little beer. But we were happy. After all, the point of a quest isn't necessarily finding the object you desire. The reason for the quest is the journey itself. Now, I'm not saying I want to up and move to Richmond (no, thanks!), but I now know a bit more about a fairly important city in American history (it was the capitol of the Confederacy and all, among other things).

Even if that knowledge can be summed up as "A lot of rich people have lived here a long time."

You know, sometimes history itself boils down to such simple observations.

Jon Worley has big beer plans for his trip to Missouri next month. Bell's Amber Ale is now available in Kansas City. Life is good.