Last week, C & C went to see the new Harry Potter flick.
We attended it at a new multi-plex that has a sit-down dinner service.
Pretty swanky with waitstaff and a special Harry Potter themed menu as well.

I apologize for not remembering to keep the menu to share with you.
But, I did order myself a butter beer. (It was either that or the gilly water.)

The muggle version of butter beer, apparently, is root beer with a shot of butterscotch schnapps, topped with whip cream and caramel.
Being the root beer snob that I am, I was repulsed and intrigued at the same time.
I ordered one.
It came.
It looked damned silly. (No umbrella, but there was a plastic spider perched on the straw.)
I took a sip.

It was warm.

I said, “It’s warm.”

C said, “Yeah. I know. They said it was warm.”

I said, “They did? I didn’t hear that. Root beer shouldn’t be warm.”

C said, “I know. I didn’t order one.”

She did, however, try some of mine.

C said, “That is horrid.”

I wouldn’t go that far. It wasn’t bad. It wasn’t good, but it wasn’t bad.

It would have been a hell of a lot better if it has been cold.
(Why was it warm? Is Butter Beer served warm in the books?)

The movie, in case you are curious, was enjoyable. Lots missing.
Lots changed.
On the bright side, I enjoyed Harry more in the movie than I did in the book.
In the book, I thought he was a right awfull little git.