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Santa Maria Sun / Humor

The following article was posted on March 25th, 2015, in the Santa Maria Sun - Volume 16, Issue 3 [ Submit a Story ]
The following articles were printed from Santa Maria Sun [santamariasun.com] - Volume 16, Issue 3

The beer experiment

By ROB KRIDER

After conducting some of my own scientific testing, I have deduced that alcohol is actually not the answer to all of my problems. Upon further studies, I came to the difficult realization that my good friend alcohol really wasn’t the answer to any problem I ever had. Nope, the data doesn’t lie (and unfortunately for me and some unflattering videos, YouTube doesn’t lie either).


I will tell you that I took this study very seriously, and while conducting field tests, I drank heavily at numerous social events hoping for some good data results. However, good results never came. What did come were some hangovers, lots of shame, soul-crushing guilt, and the occasional apology text sent to my closest friends (and sometimes complete strangers). I was trying to make right what alcohol had made wrong the night before. Damn you alcohol, you tasted so good going down.

Even though the study didn’t reveal the statistics I was hoping for (beer equals success), I did get some interesting information during the progression of my experiment. Even though it’s relatively easy to clean up, the odor of bile lingers, especially when things get into those hard to reach places, like the air conditioning vent on the passenger side of your best friend’s car. Well, I should probably qualify that by saying your ex-best friend’s car. I also found during this highly critical scientific study that the concept of “breaking the seal” (going to the bathroom that first time during a night of drinking) and then, having to urinate at a higher frequency after the initial trip to the bathroom, is as real as the fact that the world is round. The data was absolutely clear on this issue. Don’t break the seal.

Probably the most revealing fact about alcohol garnered from my analysis is while alcohol is coursing through your body, the concept of drinking more of it seems like the best idea ever. And the more you drink, the more dumb ideas start to pop into your brain. And then, (especially if you are a male) dumb ideas about dangerous stunts come into your head, and they seem like the greatest ideas ever.

“I’m going to wrestle this stray pit bull that just walked into my front yard.”

And so the next thing you know a brand new dumb idea pops into your alcohol drenched brain and you are telling someone, “Hold my beer, I’m going to ride my kid’s Big Wheel down this steep hill.” Editor’s Note: This incident truly happened with Rob while he was studying in San Francisco and it is on YouTube. CAUTION: DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME. Obviously, Rob is an actual scientist. Although, he was unsuccessful in getting a government grant to fund all of the beer he needed for his study.

Earlier in March, I was diligently working on my thesis at a local beer and music festival. I had all of the proper technical controls in place. I had my lab partner (my wife) by my side, we had a designated driver (our teenage son) at the ready, and we had plenty of cash on hand for microbrews. Cash is king. Nobody is standing next to a keg of beer with an ATM card reader. I was very interested in this particular portion of my study because it was going to combine craft beers and reggae music, which, I hypothesized, would have a synergistic effect. That means the more we drank the better the reggae would sound, and the more reggae we heard the more we would drink. The end result was two people dancing around, spilling beer, and having the time of their lives, all in the name of science. Also deduced from the data collected during the study is that the evidence is strong: Bob Marley did not shoot the deputy (however, his guilt in the death of the Sheriff is still unclear).

Conclusion: Beer + Reggae = Fun.

Then the music stopped. It turns out I hate it when that happens, especially when it’s reggae music, and I’m sucking down gallons of craft beer. The band left the stage, and a new DJ began setting up his equipment, and he was taking way too long to get things started. Instead of a pair of turntables for music, he was messing around with his Apple laptop and holding up the entire show. So, because it seemed like a good idea (thanks alcohol!) I began to heckle him a bit. “Stop checking your Facebook status and start the show!” He didn’t appreciate my tone, and he started to get frustrated. This only encouraged me—and my friend, alcohol—to continue to talk trash about the DJ’s Apple laptop, his time management skills, and ultimately his mother’s employment status. Long story short, things were said. Then security came. More things were said. My wife panicked. She decided it was time to pull the ripcord on our experiment and sent the following text to our son: “Come pick us up. Security just had to talk to your dad. We need to leave now!”

Only, instead of sending that text to our son, unfortunately, my wife, whom I love, whose thumbs were hindered by microbrew, inadvertently sent that text to our daughter’s high school cheer coach. The coach’s first name coincidently shares the same first letter as our son’s name, yet the coach didn’t share the same passion for being our designated driver. Our daughter, who enjoys good standing on the cheer squad certainly did not appreciate her parents advertising to her coach that her guardians were intoxicated and that security was involved. Oops. Our bad. Blame the beer. If being a scientist was easy they would call it security work.

As I was being escorted out of the venue I made a few notes to myself: 1) Text daughter apology in the morning. 2) Text cheer coach reasonable explanation. 3) Text local DJ tips for booting up an Apple laptop before going on stage.

Rob’s final summation: Beer glass size multiplied by number of beers consumed times the sum of reggae songs played squared equals police action. If you enjoy Rob’s storytelling check out his novel Cadet Blues available on Amazon.com.




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