A few weeks ago, I had nonalcoholic beer. You know, the carbonated beverage that tricks you into thinking you're having a good time. I'm not even sure why they're allowed to call it "beer" when it cheats you out of every good thing you associate with beer-drinking. You keep gulping 'em down but the buzz never kicks in. It's like watching a stripper who never takes her clothes off.

If you rewound my life a few years, you'd see that I had very few kind words to say about O'Doul's and the people who choose it and its likes. If you can't handle beer, don't go to a bar. Stay home and watch "American Idol." If you're the designated driver, I commend you for your self-sacrifice, but why tease yourself? Stick to soda.

This was when I lived stumbling-home distance from the bar. This was before I moved out to the suburbs and had a family. When we had our oldest daughter, I stopped drinking and I haven't really resumed it.

It was not planned that way. It just happened. Every time I had a chance to open a beer, I thought to myself, "What if something happens to our child? What if there's some kind of emergency and I mess up because I was buzzed?" And I would just pass on the beer.

A few weeks ago, my main partner in crime from the Days of Beer came to visit from New York, and a bunch of us ended up at a watering hole near work one night. Ahh, I could feel the familiar atmosphere begin to rise and take hold of the evening. It was just like the good old days — gripe about work, laugh at the crazy stories and keep the drinks and the sushi coming.

This is when the waiter asked me what I wanted to drink, which set off the voices in my head. BEER, said one voice. But you're driving, said another. BEER, said the first. But your family is waiting at home later on. But BEER! But you've got to be at work early tomorrow. Yeah, but BEER!

And that's when I heard myself say, "Do you have any non-alcoholic beer?" The waiter returned with O'Doul's.

O'Doul's.

The sorry excuse for a pint. The sucker's choice. Cleverly disguised in a green bottle, with drops of condensation inching their way down the cold glass, but an O'Doul's all the same. And now I had one in front of me.

Before I had time to ponder what this meant, glasses were raised and mine went up with them and joined in a clanging cheer. Before I had time to contemplate whether this was a step forward or backward, I was drawn in by the bitching about work, the laughing and the crazy stories. Before I knew it, I ordered another O'Doul's.

You know, it's a pretty good beer. It has a lot more flavor than a lot of other brews coming out of Anheuser-Busch. And if you're lucky enough to hang out with a great group of people, the lack of alcohol does not rob you of a good time.

So what if the stripper never took her clothes off? I have a beautiful wife at home.

Reach Andreas Arvman at aarvman@honoluluadvertiser.com.