When I was a young man, barely into my majority (in fact, I may not yet have been 21), I was drinking some Michelob with my friends and we attempted to make drinking glasses from the beer bottles. Please, before you castigate me for my choice, I had not yet developed a palate for the better brews. Indeed, that brings to mind a funny story that I heard not too long ago. (Please forgive the aside.)
The story that came to me claimed that Michelob was crafted by assistant brewers during a strike. They failed several times before the company founders allowed them to bottle their product. The beer that they discarded was simply dumped into the streets and flowed down the gutters. Thus, it became known as “gutter beer”. The beer that they bottled was named Michelob. I'm not claiming that the story is true. However, if I had my way, all of the beer crafted by the mass marketers would flow in the gutters. I like ale that is found at the micro breweries now flourishing across the United States.
But, I digress... As we drank our Michelob in that distant time, I shared another story with my friends. I had heard that a glass could be fashioned from the Michelob bottle by following these simple instructions:
- Drink the beer.
- Tie a string around the bottle where you want to sever the bottom from the top.
- Soak the string in gasoline and ignite it.
- Strike the bottle on the edge of a hard surface (such as a concrete step) after the flame has had sufficient time to heat it
Had the first bottle merely shattered, the experiment might have ended there. Unfortunately, it didn't. In fact, it broke leaving a perfectly smooth lip around approximately ninety percent of the bottle. At the point where the string had been tied into a knot, a jagged peak extended above the lip of the “glass”. Success was close enough at hand to encourage us to try again. And, we tried again with every one of the remaining bottles in the six pack. I was then sent to buy another.
Every attempt produced the same results, just close enough to success to encourage us to try again. Another bottle. Another six pack. I lost count.
Fortunately, we lived in the country and only the trees were in any danger as I traveled back and forth. Well, the trees and the woodland animals. Well, those and my car. My father's car, actually.
I would really like to know if anyone else attempted this trick, however, please don't tell me you succeeded. I would like to enjoy a safe and sane holiday weekend. By the way, don't forget to pause for a moment of silence for those who gave “the last full measure of devotion” so that you too could enjoy it.