June 28, 2004
brewfest
Crazy weekend chock full of fun. Enough for a couple days’ worth of material, so I’ll spread it out a bit and prolong the sweet lovin’ feeling you get when you read my blog.
Drank a lot of whiskey on Friday night. Note to all: Tullamore Dew is fantastic. Goes down light and smooth and wanting more. This activity, of course, led to waking up Saturday with a hangover. And as everyone knows, the best cure for a hangover is more drinking.
Luckily, brewfest was in town, where approximately 30 breweries from all over Colorado set up their booths for the express purpose of getting the entire population of Ft. Collins drunk. A $10 entrance fee gave one the privilege of buying a bunch of beer tokens ($1 each), which could then be exchanged for — you guessed it — beer. Turns out there is an art to drinking beer at brewfest, for these little tokens were only supposed to get you 6 oz. of beer at a time (or half of the complimentary cup provided upon entrance). However, with careful observation, one could make note of which pourers were generous and which were miserly. A good pourer would fill the entire cup. More beer = more better. Duh.
During the course of the debauchery, I was good-naturedly joshing my buddy Boones (or maybe I was being a complete ass — these kinds of details get lost in a fuzzy haze during an event like this). In any case, I had obviously scored a major triumph in the verbal battle of wits since she had to stoop to neanderthal-like physical violence and attempted to push me into a bush.
That got her nowhere, of course, since I outweigh her by a good 20 lbs. or so, and the intensity of my verbal harrassment increased tenfold as I pointed out that not only was she from the dingo kidney state of South Dakota, but she was a weakling too.
Her immediate reaction was to challenge me on the rosham battlefield. “Rosham let me push you into the bush,” was her warrior cry. In my drunken stupor, I accepted, not realizing that it was a one-sided challenge. And true to form, I lost. Turning to a bystander, I calmly remarked, “Could you hold this for a sec?”, handed my beer over, and then turned to pay the rosham penalty with honor.
Squared up and body relaxed to absorb the blow, I was nonetheless taken by surprise by the force that Boones proceeded to shove with, and I flew backwards into a low cedar bush, knocking my head on a giant root.
Apparently, I hadn’t killed enough brain cells with whiskey and beer, so God decided I should also hit my head really hard too. I think the bump will go away in a few days.
