The Chug-Off That Will Live in Infamy

December 7th is a day of commemoration, of introspection and of contemplation.  Depending on the source either 2,402 (Wikipedia) or 2,973 (SOMF) Americans were killed in the Japanese attacks on Pearl Harbor.  Either way, it is a tragedy that so many men were lost, so many virile, physically fit, tanned young men.  I think of them sunning themselves in the Hawaiian sunshine on the polished decks of the USS Arizona in their tight-fitting striped sailor tees and those snug-hipped little navy pants, passing mai-tais and tousling each others hair playfully.  I think of them a lot, in fact.

But rather than gain a measure of revenge by being passive-aggressive to the waiters at Matsuri Sushi, I decided to follow the brighter angels of my conscience and head over to Mad River for trivia with international legends Team Sit On My Facebook.  O, if only I had known I would be watching the carnage of a young tousle-headed American man I would have crossed the street and elbowed my way into the order book of waiter "K-Pop" (Asian Love God) while snidely mocking the perfect highlights in his delightfully face-framing bob.

During a toss-up challenge, Team SOMF had the misfortune to tie with a band of less-attractive and less-intelligent rivals - although frankly we would hardly consider them rivals -  which necessitated a dreaded chug-off tiebreaker.  As evidence of our team's class and sophistication, we all cringed at the prospect of drinking warm Coors Light for the amusement of the frat boy contingent downstairs.  As evidence of Greg's gentility, he stepped up like poet-soldier Wilfred Owen and marched into the trenches with a fistful of resolution and a fair amount of swish.

A Real American hero!

Amid a roar not heard since my Sigma Chi Skank days, Greg put in a valiant but unenthusiastic performance and was slaughtered by a girl.  Team Cunning Linguists nodded their head in shame.  The Mayo Cannons just looked away, embarrassed to be Americans.  And that Team of Toolbags who wear douchey striped Polos and cheat all the time continued to be douche toolbags.

After the competition he trudged back down the polished decks.

"I just don't like beer that tastes of urine, okay? And I didn't think you girls wanted the shots anyway," Greg didn't really quite say.

"Of course we didn't want the shots," TK replied. "We just wanted to win."

"I'm going to vomit," Greg said to our giggling amusement.

"No. Really. I'm really going to throw up," he said as the laughter stopped. "That was disgusting."

All's well that ended well (for TK and I) because the girl in the chug-off was so touched that Greg had "obviously let her win" that she ended up buying him a shot which we all shared. 

Greg summed up his heroic experiment thusly: "I'm never doing that again, guys.  No, really. I mean it."

And as we pointed out, no matter how many chug-offs we lose, TK is still a winner because of that fancy silver medal flung in the corner with our wet coats. And we're all still winners because of our proximity to that fancy medal.

A real Real American Hero!