Easter, the Reckoning

I had a rootin', tootin' Easter weekend. Contrary to popular belief, waking up at 7 AM and driving 300 miles, after drinking copious amounts of malt liquor the night before, is not a completely bad way to spend a Saturday morning. You have lots of time to examine some of the larger issues in life, like "What is wrong with me?" and "Is it possible that I'm mentally retarded, but somehow escaped detection for 25 years of my life?" and "Why hasn't the largest class action suit in history been filed against the makers of High Gravity Steel Reserve?"

Now, about the malt liquor. I had some old collegiate buddies come back to San Antonio (shout out to the Right Brand) to celebrate some birthdays and such. Someone had the idea that, as part of the celebration, we should all bring bottles of malt liquor, cover up the labels, and then hold a tasting to determine the best and worst. An interesting idea, but not one I'd encourage others to try; hobos love this stuff for a reason, after all. Unfortunately for me, the dumber the contest, the more I'm driven to participate (see Blueball).

There are a lot of bad things about San Antonio. In my opinion, all of these are offset by the great things about the town, like the fact that it's the best place in the world to buy malt liquor. It's sold everywhere, and the variety is astounding. After a short amount of screwing around, Will and I found a convenience store where the cashier was in a cage and the only magazine they sold was called Panty Freak. "This," I declared, "is malt liquor heaven." And it was. It was there that we purchased the fateful bottle of Schlitz, which was the near unanimous winner of our contest. It was also there that, after our purchase, the cashier, "Thank you, now go right home. Be safe." When a lady in a bulletproof cage tells you that, you realize it's no time to dilly-dally.

Anywho, the party was fun, I got to see a lot of people across the entire weekend, and I generally had a very good time. It would've been the best Easter ever, had I not had enough malt liquor lingering in my body to kill Billy Dee Williams.