In the heart of the Rocky Mountains (Georgetown Colorado), I met two Jersey guys...both named Jack. It was fun hanging out with them and our two days together were packed with wild adventures. The second night, while Jack-A shacked-up with a girl from town, Jack-B and I decided to forgo the local youth hostel and sleep in a cave that we had seen during the day.
ANYTHING GOES WITH A CASE OF STROH'S
Jack-B and I found the unpaved access road off Interstate-70 but got lost in the dark. Heading back on the highway's shoulder, he plunged into a huge puddle and the car got stuck in mud. After a while, we flagged down someone to help but he was drunk. Even when he put his can of Olympia beer down, he was useless...but he agreed to drive us back to where Jack-A was.
Beyond the outskirts of Georgetown, our unnecessarily high-speed drive through the darkened rural woods was scary enough but Jack-B was lost...he had only been to this log cabin once...in daylight. We crisscrossed the forest and drove in circles for ninety minutes. We finally found this girl's home. It was in such a remote place that an adjacent stream powered the generator that ran her electricity...hard to believe...she intentionally had no phone either.
The girl opened the door wearing only a smile and a short, dress-like Dos Equis tee-shirt. Jack-A on the other hand was seething at the prospect of his romantic evening being interrupted. When Jack-B explained the pitiful circumstances, Jack-A's exasperated angst skyrocketed. I thought he was going to have a brain aneurysm as he fought the urge to strangle his pal.
EVEN NOW, EVERY TV COMMERCIAL FOR DOS EQUIS MAKES ME THINK OF THAT GIRL.We drove back into town. If you recall from an earlier blog, I was chased out of the Red Ram Saloon...fate and this idiocy brought me back to that same bar. I thought it was prudent to hide from my tormentors in the shadows as the girl enlisted the help of a tow-truck operator. Like a scolded puppy, Jack-B avoided confrontation with his pissed-off buddy. So while Jack-A and the girl negotiated with the tow truck owner, Jack-B bought two icy-cold bottles of Anchor Steam Beer and smuggled them out for me and him.
ANCHOR BEER MIGHT BE THE PRIDE OF SAN FRANCISCO BUT IT WASN'T A GOOD IDEA FOR US.
The tow truck had a winch and pulled the car out in seconds. The drive back to town was filled with tense silence. Jack-A then dropped me and Jack-B at the youth hostel. When the horny couple drove-off to resume to their tryst, we celebrated our survival by drinking our hidden beer. Unfortunately, the hostel was full and we were only permitted in to retrieve our sleeping bags . In the tiny town, we had nowhere to go. Jack-B and I found a desolate road along side a mountain and camped-out. Even though it was late July, because of the altitude, we froze. Our shivering wasn't helped by the beer or the not-so-distant howl of wolves.
Somehow we weren't eaten during the night. The next morning, we re-united with Jack-A and the three of us drove to Golden Colorado. Along the way we passed a huge, privately owned, open range. On this land, someone was breeding buffaloes...as in real buffaloes. In addition to selling them for their meat, they are also "leased-out" for western movies, TV shows etc. The image of the thundering herd, surrounded by the mountainous vista, running parallel to the interstate remains, (right along with the girl in the Dos Equis shirt), as one of the highlights of my life.
There's only one thing that I can think of that is famous in Golden Colorado. It is the corporate headquarters and home of the Coors Brewing company's main plant.
IN THE MID-70's, COORS WAS NOT AVAILABLE IN THE EASTERN U.S.. THIS CAUSED A "FROST-BREWED" MYSTIQUE THAT MADE GUYS LIKE ME AND THE TWO JACKS SALIVATE AT THE IDEA OF FREE BEER AFTER THEIR FACTORY TOUR.
Our tour started before noon. Our 30-person group was dominated by old-timers...I was two months older than 21 back then...so by old-timers...I'm guessing these folks were mainly 45+. During the tour there were several stupid questions and statements made by our group like; Why do they call them hops? And, "You guys will never get me to switch from Piels."
I REMEMBER PIELS AS BEING SO BAD THAT WE NICKNAMED IT, ALONG WITH UTICA CLUB (a.k.a. dog water) AND BALLANTINE (like drinking wet sand) AS, "THE LAST OF THE 99-CENT SIX PACKS." TO PIELS CREDIT, THEIR CUTE TV COMMERCIALS FEATURED THE COMEDY TEAM OF "BOB AND RAY" AS THE CARTOON VOICES OF THE OWNER BROTHERS (HARRY AND BURT PIELS).The other people on our tour got used to our childish outbursts. Inwardly, I'll bet they were being too polite and wanted to join us.
After the factory tour, our guide disappeared. Male hospitality employees in lederhosen and females dressed like St. Pauli girls, welcomed us to the tasting room. In this enormous beer hall, we were oriented to the rules and were told we can "sample" as much beer as we could suck down...we were also told that the beer was "3.2 beer," (lower than normal alcohol content). We were settling in to our first beer when a knucklehead from our tour group asked, "Do you also serve free cheese, salami and crackers like they do in the Foster's brewery in Australia?" We screamed with laughter and loudly rehashed earlier dumb remarks.
COINCIDENTALLY, BOTH JACKS WERE IRISH! JACK-A SAID, "GET COMFORTABLE, WE'RE GOING TO BE HERE A WHILE." AND JACK-B SAID, "WHEN WE DRINK FREE BEER, WE MAKE A PROFIT."I was taking my second sip when *Gestapo-like plain-clothes security guards asked us to, "Come with us." (*editor's note, I said Gestapo because the Coors primary owner's name back then was ADOLPH Coors). On our way out, I heard a woman from another group said, "Damn hippies, they must be drunk!"
Outside the room, we were led down a short, bleak hallway. They opened an emergency door and we were kicked out. In the snap of a finger, our Rocky Mountain high vanished.
I wasn't embarrassed by this incident...instead it made me angry. About a week later I eased up and saw the humor in it. Still, I felt profiled and robbed of a good time. To satisfy my troubled feeling and to forever make the event noteworthy, I decided to crush Coors financially. I am proud to say that I have boycotted all their products while sending out the message of their dastardly deed. I'm guessing that if it wasn't for me, they'd be at the top of the Fortune-500 list. Therefore, I am happy to announce that the 33rd anniversary of my one-man Coors abstinence program is coming-up in a couple of months.
In case you're curious...my beer of choice down through the decades has been Heineken but Grolsch (also from Holland) is a highly honored second choice.
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