Yesterday I shared my "My First Beer" story, and asked for our readers to step up and share theirs by sending stories to hoosierbeergeek @ gmail.com. I'm happy to say that we've had a quick response... Let's keep the momentum going, shall we? Our thanks go out to Kirk Winters, who submitted this little gem.
The story of my first beer starts with a Motel bathtub full of Icehouse and ends with me and a friend hiding from the cops in a Denny's restaurant.
I'm not just a beer geek, I'm pretty much a geek in all facets of life. I spent the majority of my high school weekends watching star wars and playing video games, Dungeons and Dragons or other nerdy board games like Axis and Allies. I had gone to a few parties where people were drinking but was never interested in joining in.
But when a group of my friends decided to get a hotel room on the night of our high school graduation and have a party I figured that was as good a time as any to pop my booze cherry, so to speak.
I caught a ride with some friends to the Motel which backed up to the interstate and was surrounded by trucker-friendly establishments such as truck washes, gas stations and all-night diners--far enough away from our suburban point of origin. When we arrived the "party" was already started so to speak. The bathtub was filled up with ice and peppered with 16oz. cans of Icehouse and a few friends were smoking outside the back patio door.
My dad had frequently given me sips of his Pabst Blue Ribbon as a youngin' so I was well aware of what beer tasted like but I had never sat down and drank my own before. I was given a can which I promptly opened and took a long pull. I was not averse to the taste of those small sips my dad gave me, but drinking the real-deal out of my own can was an entirely different experience. The ice cold bite, the intense carbonation and then the awkward bitterness... I can't say I was a fan.
Fortunately I didn't have to endure it for long. I wasn't through a third of my can when a knocking was heard at the door. The person closest to peered through the eyehole and quickly turned to us and hush-shouted "It's the cops!"
There was a flurry of action as the 15-or-so of us dropped what we were all doing and bolted for the back door. We were fortunate enough to have been granted a first floor room so we were able to run free of the Motel and escape.
Of course we didn't have anywhere to escape *to* per se. Me and my friend Mandy just kept running until we hit the ditch between the Motel property and the interstate--all of about 100 feet away. We tried our best to stay hidden while we peered through the tall grass and weeds to see what was happening. We saw the police cars but nothing else. After a few minutes we realized that this wasn't the best place to hide so we crawled through the ditch to get to the Denny's next door. Once there we grabbed a table and ordered some drinks and tried to be as inconspicuous as possible--which wasn't all that easy considering we were dirty, scratched and itchy from crawling through the weeds.
About 10 minutes later a pair of policemen walk in which caused Mandy to panic. I have no idea whether they were the same officers that knocked on our door or not, but, luckily, they didn't appear to be looking for anything more than a cup of coffee.
After finishing our drinks we left the restaurant and found a pay phone (remember those?) where I was able to call my dad and have him come and get us. He didn't ask any questions, bless his soul.
This reminded me of another story:
ReplyDeleteI was about 19; A few friends and I had a 12 pack of (probably) Miller Light in my Blazer, and we headed to the driving range to hit a few balls. We're by no means serious golfers, but the driving range was usually a good way to kill some time. We spent an hour or so hitting, right up until closing time, and as we're walking out to the parking lot I realized I'd locked my keys in the car.
This driving range is off the road a bit, and there's a locked gate at the road, so the guy working tells us that he's going to lock the gate regardless of if we're still parked there or not. Of course he can call the cops(!!!) to have them open the car for us and none of this will be a problem...
Well, I think you can see our problem.
So I told the attendant not to bother. And he left, locking the gate behind him. I then called my Dad (who was a better option than a cop), who brought the spare keys, never getting out of his car.
And then we drove around that stupid gate.