An Irishman walks into a pub in Dublin, orders three pints of Guinness, and sits in the back of the room, drinking a sip out of each one in turn. When he finishes all three he goes back to the bar and orders three more pints.
The bartender reminds him, “You know that when I draw a pint it starts to go flat. It would be better if you ordered one pint at a time.”
The Irishman explains, “It’s this way. I have two brothers. One is in America, the other is in Australia. I’m here in Dublin. When we parted ways years ago we promised we would drink this way to remember when we all drank together.”
The bartender admits it’s a nice custom and leaves it at that.
The Irishman becomes a regular customer, coming to the pub at least once a week. But then one day he comes in and only orders two pints. He looks very sad, and everybody knows something terrible has happened.
“I see there’s only two of you now,” the bartender tells the Irishman. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Oh, no,” the Irishman explains. “My brothers are still all right. It’s just me. I’ve quit drinking.”