Tuesday, February 07, 2006

DC Beerlympics 2006

Recently eaten: macaroni, beef
Recent annoyance: regret

The Olympics have been the unique intersection of sport, art, and culture. It's motto: swifter, higher, stronger. The Beerlympics held in Washington, DC in 2006 were no different in spirit, skill, or passion.

Pendulous gray clouds hung in the sky from morning until night, but the competitors were not deterred. From every corner of the Washington metro region, even from as far away as the great Commonwealth of Massachusetts, they assembled on 12th Street. The baby blue of the house reflecting the hope that the skies would clear, shining the heavenly light of success and championship on their teams.

The Commissioners furiously began preparations. Today was their day as well. Weeks of intense preparation, planning, and pizza boiled down to this. The heady smell of permanent marker tinged the air and stung the nostrils as the Commissioners ran from task to task. Random drug tests were administered, waivers were signed, muscley shoulder were rubbed for no good reason. Ah, the Beerlympics! Rising from the murky tide of DC gutter water, it shone like a bastion, a shining city on Capitol Hill for every drunk to see. Peering from the slit of one eye open, from the bottom of a keg, from the cold stinky wood of the bar, they answered the call: Beer Teams, Assemble!

In the spirit of sportmanship, teams were picked at random from the 35 competitors. latecomers got off easy and were only mocked and ridiculed at length, then given nicknames like Stinkybutt#1 and Stinkybutt #2. As the teams were announced, cries of elation, shouts of "who dat?", and fist pumps filled the air. It was a joyous moment as the teams convened for the first time. I, myself, looked upon the hopeful faces of Team Green aka Salty Balls. Led by the able drinking of Lane and his tiny boombox, Mutton Chops Jamie, Hairy Chested Paul, Gun Show Peter, One Woman Show Baz, and yours truly, P.Lee.

We got off to a rocky start in the boat races. Tensions were high, Team Red dominated the event with T. Batta on the roll call drinking beer like Drano cutting through a clogged pipe. Team Green was down, but not even close to out. In the 40 oz to freedom event, technocal difficulties prevented the malt liquor from flowing as free as My Little Pony's hair. But what they lacked in speed, they made up for in precision. Not a single precious drop was missed.

The Freestyle Shotski was their time to shine. Team Green Salty Balls knew that the ante had to be upped and the only way they could do it was with their rock hard bodies. Shining like Grecian Gods, the team filed in and began to strip, not in that skanky Coyote Ugly way, but the way the Incredible hulk shucked off everything but his tiny purple pants in the heat of the moment. Oh, it was glorious indeed. There was hair to be seen, and P.Lee's pot belly to boot. Spectators temporarily lost the ability to see, perhaps from the ambrosia of flesh before them. 5 points out of 5, and they were back in the game.

Following a brief intermission, the sun had finally set upon the teams f Beerlympics, but the competition was just getting started. In the misting rain, like tiny mouthfuls of beer being spit upon one's own teammmates mouth, the competitors ran like sugar crazed children towards the Gauntlet, a three event obstacle course of love. Team Green raced through the wheelbarrow like demons possessed by wheelbarrows and jumped so enthusiastically into the sleds that they shattered in awe. Our time was good, but beaten in the end by Team Yellow, most likely high on amphetamines and PCP.

Muddy, but jubilant, the teams entered Big Blue chomping at the bit ot start the flip cup tournament. Teams of complete strangers huddled around their beers, trying on new strategies, talking jive about other teams, and figuring out who they would make out with at the end of the night. The kiss n' cry area at it's best.

The flipcup tournament began with complete domination by the Green Team against Team Yellow. They may have out leap frogged them, but doggone it if they weren't going to win the straight up drunk competition. Chaos ensued on the table when Big burly Bourbon Steve flipped the table with his giant pectoral muscles. All were impressed, not even mad. He was summarily put to bed.

Team Green faced Team White next which they handily beat as well. They faced their toughest challenge against Team Red Cobra Chi on the table and about to lose their best drinker Lane. Pulled by other duties at another event, Team Green persuaded lane to stay and skool those Red Suckers into submission. It was close rtound beginning with a tie on the first game. In the end, the superior flipping abilities of Team Green won the tourney.

Things get a little hazy from here on out for this Commissioner. There was a dance off, hair was shaved, clothes were removed, I may have towel whipped many a competitor. In the end it was team Red with the Gold, Team Yellow with the Silver and Team Green with the Bronze.

Yes, it was the stuff of legends. Even the gods on Mount Olympus poured a little out for their mortal homies. Swifter, higher, stronger, indeed.

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