Horror Story: The Tale of the 5-keg Series

This is a True story.  You will notice that I do not name the business, nor the town in which it is located. I do this to protect innocent parties. Crappy businesses often have employees, that either have nowhere else to go, or who are bullied into keeping their mouths shut. Furthermore, one or more of the businesses involved may have changed hands by the time I write this story. It would be completely unfair to disparage the new operator, without first seeing if they have made any changes. Usually they have.

     In today's tale, I shall tell  of the Horror of the Five Keg Series. 

     I believe it was late Spring, when I was dispatched to a "Hotel", in a mid-sized city in Southern Ontario, on behalf of a local Craft Brewery. Like many cities of this size, in Ontario, it is fairly isolated. It has one or two smaller satellite cities, but for the most part, is surrounded by farmland or wilderness.  The city is an older one, founded as a Pre-Columbian, First Nations settlement. When this early settlement was destroyed by the Iroquois, in the mid 17th century, due to fur trade disputes fueled by European appetites for Beaver and Mink Pelts, it remained largely abandoned, until Europeans began to grow a small settlement on the site, beginning in the late 18th century.

     The building this business was housed in dated from the late 1870s or early 1880s, and was described as a hotel, or inn, of some form or another, for the majority of its existence. The ground floor had a restaurant and a bar, which in contemporary times, had seen life as everything from a public rental hall, to a disco,  club. 

     When I arrived, the current incarnation was that of a rather stabby(🗡️) pool Hall. When I arrived at 1:00 in the afternoon, on a Thursday, there were just over half a dozen people in the space, many of whom seemed to have led a rough existence, to say the least. There was one bartender on staff, and one gentleman in the kitchen. 

     The draft setup in the bar consisted of  two faucets, punched through an aluminum L-bracket, that was screwed to the underside of the bar top. They were

fed by quarter inch ID, polyethylene tubing, that was not rated by NSF, and was likely designed for non-food use. They were cooled directly by a single 3/8 OD refrigeration line. The insulation was a joke, and was a combination a tarred cork tape, and dollar store duct tape.  Furthermore, all of this was positioned above the dishwasher.  It was one of those conveyor types, and the steam rising from the "clean" glassware and dishes was constantly assaulting the beer faucets and tubing.

    The faucets were chromed brass, and were 10 years old, if a day. Both seemed to be made up of mismatched parts from several faucets. The Pistons were so worn, that all the Chrome had rubbed off. When you opened a faucet, beer would spit from around the piston, with enough force to splash on your crotch; everyone's favorite place to get a mystery stain. The interior of the faucets had no Chrome left, at all. The inside was pitted and worn bare brass, that was collecting yeast boogers, beer Stone, and a protein biofilm that was denser than any I have ever witnessed. One beer was an internationally known, American light lager.  The other, was a local craft beer, which was also the source of the service call. I had been sent to diagnose "flavor and dispensing issues", and to clean the beer line.

     As previously stated, the building was old. The bar ran half the length of the East wall, near the South corner of the room.   I requested directions to the beer cooler.  The bartender indicated some stairs behind her, that descended toward the South Wall. I am fairly certain that they were the original stairs. They came out onto a hand-fitted stone floor with a door to my right that stood open. Having been told to follow the path all the way around, " ... Until yous get ta the end." I did as bade. Not that I had any sort of choice of where to go.  The basement was like an episode of Hoarders had been involved in a head-on train collision with an episode of Antiques Roadshow, or American Pickers. Had I seen one of those bicycles from the 1890s, with the giant front wheel, I wouldn't have even slowed down. 

     Beginning in the Southeast corner, I walked parallel to the South Wall until I was forced to turn right, and parallel the West Wall. About halfway to the North wall I passed through an opening in the footing, and the basement with the stone floor became a dirt floor cellar. Turning right again, at the north wall, I passed through another opening into a wider, makeshift mechanical room. Ahead of me was the cold room. The door was that of a modern walk-in cooler. By modern I mean probably mid 50s. It was wood, but had been skinned with sheet steel on the inside, was definitely professionally built, was properly insulated, and had a modern door closer at the top. It also had modern safety handles. This door was the most modern piece of technology I would see for the rest of my time there.

    To my right was a raised area of limestone foundation blocks about two and one half feet above the cellar floor. On this was a refrigeration deck for the cooler which looked like an industrial air compressor. If it was an ammonia refrigerator, it would not have surprised me. I did not investigate. There was also a pair of 100 lb CO2 cylinders. One of these had a regulator on it, with an old yellowed braided line, that fed into an air compressor tank, and was set at 15 psi. The air compressor was older than I am, an antique craftsman air compressor, with a manufacturer date of 1968. This air compressor was not designed for use with food.  My first clue was that there was a bottle of lubricating oil directly beside it. Next to that was a pile of nearly one dozen intake filters for the air compressor surrounded by a liberal sprinkling of rodent feces. There was no filter currently on the air compressor. The compressor was running almost constantly. Suspecting the worst I tilted it, rocking it side to side, to see how much water there was in the tank. It was all but full.

     Plucking up the courage, I finally opened the cooler door. Despite the appearance of the modern door, I should not have trusted it. When it closed and latched behind me, I noticed with momentary horror, that the plunger one strikes to get out of a cooler was completely missing. Thankfully, I had brought my tools inside, and furthermore, I am not one who panics. With the aid of a long screwdriver, I was able to open the door, which I then propped open with a leg from one of the many broken chairs, which seemed to fill about half of the basement. Had a fire ever began in that basement, it would have burned for several weeks. There were more broken chairs in the basement, then working chairs, in the restaurant. 

     With a secured exit, I had to look at the keg setup. For those of you unfamiliar with a series keg connection, it works like this. 

 

The gas line which, feeds from a regulator goes into the side port of the keg coupler. In a normal beer system, the beer would then leave the coupler, and go up to a wall bracket or fob, and then connect to the Beer line that would take it out to the bar. In a series keg connection,  this out bound beer line, instead, goes to the gas inlet of another keg coupler, from which, the non-return valve has been removed. This allows beer from the first keg to be pushed into the second keg, via what would normally be the gas inlet ports.  This can continue through several kegs, before continuing on to the remainder of the beer system. This is a technique often used in sports venues, very busy bars on the weekend, or concert venues. Basically it is usually only used in places where you are liable to go through an entire keg of beer in less than 1 hour. This allows for you to go through two or three kegs, before needing to change them.

     The reason for this setup, at this particular establishment, was entirely due to the fact that bar lacked the staff necessary, to allow a keg swap with patrons in the building. Had the bartender left at any point, the register would have been emptied, most of the liquor would have been stolen, and there is a fair chance that someone would have been stabbed. I wish I was exaggerating.  Even then, this place had a five keg series. There was no circumstance for this particular bar, in which they would ever go through five kegs in an entire day, let alone during a single shift. It was pure laziness.

     In places where a series of kegs is warranted, the maximum is generally three. It is also understood, that one should allow the entire series to go empty, at least once per week. What happens in lazy bars, is that, at the end of the night, the partial keg is moved to the position closest to the gas source. Empty kegs are removed and replaced with full kegs. The problem with this, is that beer from every keg, mixes through every other keg, on its way to the faucet.  This also means that until every keg is emptied, there is some amount of beer, left over from the last time all the kegs were emptied. Despite what people think, there is no magic rotation sequence. I have illustrated this

     I looked at the date on the oldest keg in this particular series. It was 19 months out of date. A keg is normally dated for a shelf life of at least 90 days. This means that there was beer in the keg series, that was at least 22 months old. It had been at least 22 months, since the 5th keg in the series had been changed. Chances are that this was not the oldest beer in the series, as it is likely that the keg series, prior to this one, had suffered a similar fate. 

     In this case I had very little choice.  First, I took extensive photographs of the atrocity that was spread out before me.  I explained everything in detail, to the bartender.  After that I proceeded to do the very best that I could. 

     I replaced both faucets entirely, with 304 Stainless Steel versions. I stripped and replaced the old insulation with a full inch of Black, closed cell foam. I did a foil and moisture interior wrap, and an outer shell of 3" diameter electrical heat-shrink tubing. I cleaned the lines and FOBs with a 6%, chlorine free caustic solution. I then cleaned with a 3% acid solution. And again with a 4% caustic solution. I removed all out of date kegs from the series. I reduced the series to three kegs, and did the same thing for the other beer.  I drained the air compressor of one and one quarter gallons of a rusty, toxic, fecal sludge that smelled like someone had been using the grease pit at an oil change garage for a septic tank. I have a pretty strong stomach. That was the only smell I have ever experienced, in this job, that has ever made me gag. Keep in mind, I have smelled rotting human corpses, burning flesh, and putrid, yeast infected underground conduits. None of those things ever elicited more than a wrinkled nose, and a disgusted face from me. I would rather spend the night in the dumpster of a seafood restaurant, than ever again smell that smell.

     I carefully collected 5 samples, in clear water bottles. 3, I took with me. One, I left with the bartender. The last, I left next to the air compressor which I bypassed, and disabled by disconnecting an interior wire. It was a simple repair to get it running again for use as an air compressor. The other item I disabled was the latch on the walk-in door.  It was an unsafe situation. As decrepit and leaky as the gas system had been, had I been locked in that cooler, I would have died of CO2 poisoning before anyone realized I had been gone too long.  The door would still seal and shut, despite not having the latch attached. The door closer at the top was still working, and this was easily overpowered from a moderate push.  This would ensure that some other, panicky,

 unsuspecting soul would not be trapped in the cooler until the inside handle could be found and repaired, or replaced.

As the run was very short, the system only required 14 PSI to deliver the beer, now that the series had been reduced to three kegs each. I converted the system to 100% CO2. All of the gas tubing and distribution equipment, as well as all the jumpers between kegs, went into my truck, sealed in a black garbage bag. I replaced all of the tubing, beyond where the air compressor had once been. I even replaced all of the soft washers, on, or in the keg couplers, that we're likely to come in contact with beer. There were no fobs on this system, as the run, from this point, was just 16 ft of 1/4" ID tubing. At just over 0.4 oz/ft, and with nearly all of the run being vertical, a FOB would only save an average of about 10 oz per keg change. At a cost of roughly $1, return on investment for a fob installation would have been about 15 keg changes[45 kegs], which in this bar, would take roughly 300 years. I didn't see the point.

    The next thing I did was call both Brewery reps. I provided both with photographs of the situation, before and after. I let both know that I would provide each with samples from the air compressor. I officially recommended to each, via email, that they require the establishment to sign an agreement that would disallow the use of an air compressor, require regular cleanings, and require the replacement of the beer tubing that I was unable to replace. When I sent this email, I copied in the responsible health agency for the region, as well as the Brewer for the Craft company, the legal department of the large Brewery, and my boss at the time. 

     After the phone calls to the Reps, but before the official emails, I provided a detailed write-up, and an email, to the bar owner. I explained all the work I performed, and why I felt compelled to do so. I provided pictures with the email, on how I disabled the air compressor and the door latch, to allow easy repair.  I further explained to them that I believed it was unlikely the bar owner actually understood how the system functioned, doing my best to offer the benefit of the doubt, to this stranger. The reason I did so, was primarily, because everything else I had seen in the building, that was used for cooking, making drinks, or that was used as an eating or preparation surface, seemed to be clean, and well-maintained.  And the giant walk-in cooler that the kegs were in, only housed the kegs, and other goods that were still sealed in cases.  The floor was poured sloped concrete, and was also clean.  As the floor leading to it was Dirt, in portions, this was quite a feat.  

     Unfortunately, I was wrong about the owner.  I retuned for another cleaning, to find the Air compressor and the 5 keg series restored.  I called the Brewery reps.  The craft brewer arrived the same day, handed the bar tender a refund Cheque for the 6 kegs that contained beer, and for deposit values of the empties. They fired the customer.  As well they should. It was obvious that the Owner did not respect Beer as Food.  Imagine if a persons first beer came from that system.  Imagine if that was your first impression of Craft beer.  Imagine if it was their first impression of the beer you Brewed.  I would fire them as well.  I kinda did.

Happy Hallowen.

Cheers

Dan Broaddus