A priest walks into a bar

So my brother got married and stuff. My sisters and I were in the wedding. It was 110 degrees outside because it was August and Phoenix, and when/where else would one get married? In any event, it was successful and everyone looked nice and had a great time. A child cried throughout the ceremony, the priest likened a scripture read by the bride's godmother to a shampoo commercial from the 70s. You know, a typical wedding.

At the reception I get up to the bar and notice that domestic beers are free. I order a Fat Tire, as that is a domestic beer. The bartender explains it isn't a domestic beer, which makes me think he doesn't drink beer (my boyfriend later explains it is a craft beer, so the bartender probably thinks I don't drink beer). Miffed after hearing Fat Tire is forbidden and not wanting to drink a Budweiser, I order a glass of red. While the bartender is pouring I swing around to take in the crowd and find the priest a few feet behind me, glass of Michelob AmberBock in hand (the least offensive of the domestic options).

Dodo: So, you got the Michelob?
Priest: Yup.
Dodo: I can't believe we can't order Fat Tire!
Priest: Yeah...I was really hoping for a glass of Stella.