In May, I moved into a townhouse in Arlington with three other bros. The place is brand new, gorgeous, and definitely way too nice for us and our penchant for random, irresponsible debauchery.
As we began to outfit our house with all the items that 20-something males consider domestic necessities (barbecue grill, mini fridges-4 of them, flat screen television, tiki torches, etc.), it soon became apparent to us that something was missing from our otherwise dominant household. There was a void and we could all sense it. What could we add to our house to show the neighbors (the fun ones) what kind of bros we truly are? What could we get to really demonstrate our fratitude? It had to be something that not just anyone could buy and possess. Something unique... We needed a beer bong, but not just any beer bong.
Now for those of you who grew up in Utah or have been living under a rock since the Eisenhower Administration, a beer bong is a wonderful contraption that allows the user to consume stomach-stretching quantities of beer in remarkably small amounts of time. It's just a funnel attached to a tube, but it can do amazing things simply by harnessing the power of gravity and some complicated bit of physics involving fluid dynamics.
Any amateur can build a beer bong, but only enthusiasts like ourselves who are truly dedicated to the SFP lifestyle would ever dare to construct and use a 25-foot-long monster that can hold a six pack. We spent an hour and $90 at Home Depot collecting all the necessary components: heavy duty flexible contractor's tubing, solid brass fittings and splitters, adjustable aluminum tube clamps, and the piece de resistance- mouth pieces fashioned from industrial-grade natural gas pipe valves. Another hour of assembly at home (it helped that one of us had an engineering degree) and our Frankenstein was a reality: a two-person thrill ride that dispensed beer like a fire hose. We christened our new creation Long Bong Silver (or LBS, for short).
One Saturday evening, about three weeks after our inaugural weekend with LBS, we were well into the second case (at half capacity- 3 beers a pop- 6 or 8 people can easily put away a 30-rack in under 15 minutes) when the po-lice paid us a visit. We didn't give this much attention since it has become a weekly occurrence, owing to the fact that we bro-out just a little too hard for some of our neighbors. This visit was slightly different though: it was a lady cop. She got out of the cruiser and sidled over to the base of the balcony, ready to tell us to quiet down.
"Good evening, you guys need to keep it-" she stopped mid-sentence, her eyes riveted to the beast draped from our balcony. Can you say penis envy? After a few seconds of dumbfounded silence, she said "You know, you guys can't have that thing up there. You need to take it down." I decided to push the envelop: "You wanna try one, Officer? Basically anyone can handle it," I said, knowing full well that it would probably knock her flat on her cop ass. "I can't, I'm on duty," she replied. I was buzzed and feeling lucky: "You didn't say 'no!' Where I came from, no means yes and yes means harder." Needless to say, she was not impressed. Sorry for Partying.