When I received Jerry’s assignment (to perform a keg stand of preposterous amounts of magnitude), it never occurred to me that finding a keg would pose a challenge. At the time I had not yet decided to leave the Midwest, proverbial Land of Milk & Honey & Hooch that it is. See, back in Chicago, where the beer flows like wine, you can’t swing a dead cat without smacking into a drunkass Cubs fan house party. This is a city where half the town explodes each March, dying an already toxic river an even more virulent shade of green & the long arm of the law is too busy reaching over the bar trying to get a firm grip of the tap to really keep things in line. Surely the finding of a keg upon which to perform a stand of preposterous amounts of magnitude would pose no challenge to me.

Then came New York, a city with drinks named after its boroughs. Well, two of its boroughs (though who would want to drink anything named after Staten Island is beyond me). When you’re living in a town where $5 PBR’s are a Tuesday night special, the idea of getting an entire keg sort of flies out the window. Still, the assignment loomed before me like so many red solo cups: I would meet this challenge yet.

I first set out to find just how one might perform a keg stand. I found this Wikipedia article rather insightful, particularly the reminder that a keg stand, though an action frequently executed in competition, can also be performed for noncompetitive enjoyment as well. Ah, nothing like flipping head over 15.5 gallons of beer for the sheer joy of it.

For the uninformed, a keg stand is performed when an individual suspends themselves over a keg, with legs held in the air by supportive onlookers who may or may not chant. The inverted person then places the hose in their mouth & drinks as much beer as they possibly can before choking, spitting up &/or soiling themselves. I will have you all know that I was not sure whether or not “hose” was the proper term for the tubing from which beer flows from a keg &, after briefly investigating on Google, I found this handy device, which allows the owner “to pump beer from your car, boat or any other 12 volt DC power accessory (cigarette lighter) source.” Well thank god for that.

Knowing I would require a modicum of upper body strength, I began to train.

Perhaps you are admiring the vintage-y sepia tones displayed in this photograph? I believe you will find they make me more Rocky-like.

Oh, it was a grueling four minutes, preparing for the stand, showboating for the camera, trying to wean the cruel white glare of the flash away from my doughy arms.

At last my body had be prepped, plied into its pique condition & ready for le moment de vérité – The Stand. But – wait? How could I afford such a horrific amount of beer? Where would I get the money? How would I get it home? Who the hell sells kegs in Williamsburg?

World, meet the Heineken Keg Can, the skankiest substitute since Nicole Ritchie. Armed with my bendie straw & $3.49 worth of pure fratboy fire, I was ready to complete Jerry’s assignment.

Was this the proudest moment of my life? Not quite. Will this come back to haunt me when future employers/landlords/inlaws stumble upon it? Probably. Was that the most lukewarm, foul-tasting, end-all disgusting straw-sip of beer I’ve ever had? You better believe it. But I did it, damnit. In spite of the odds, I carried through. A keg stand of preposterous amounts of magnitude indeed.

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