There are 4 time zones. If you’re from the East Coast, they go -1, -2, and -3. If you’re from the West Coast, they go +1, +2, and +3. It’s as if east coasters say, “I can subtract 1 and I can subtract 3, but subtracting 2 just baffles me!” And the equivalent for west coasters.
A woman stopped me in the Denver airport yesterday and asked the time. I told her. She reacted with great skepticism and confusion because the answer I gave (“4:15,” for the record) did not fall into one of the time zones of which she was aware. So she demanded an explanation of how this bizarre Land of the Mountains related to other, better known, time zones. Seriously, we had to have that discussion, while I justified the existence of our little chronological slice of the country.
And don’t get me started on the networks that tell you the show is at 9:00, 8:00 Central, and 6:00 Pacific. Um, guys? Hellooooo?
If you can successfully count to 4 without missing any numbers, you can figure out Mountain Time.
Beautiful as our mountains are, I think we need a better name. No one, but no one, will ever loose track of Craft Beer Time.