Chug

During my first year of college, I discovered the joy of drinking beer. I encountered several peers who had a similar enthusiasm for partying, and together, we explored Yankton in search of bars that didn’t check IDs. At that time, the regulations were more lenient, allowing numerous beer joints to serve anyone who could pay. Eventually, our favorite places to relax became Pig's Palace and Lien's Pub. My friends and I were far from being dainty; instead of ordering by the glass, we opted to drink directly from the pitchers to save money. To enjoy free beer, we increased our tolerance by engaging in raucous drinking games.

Two games linger in my memory from my time at the popular college hangout, Pig's Palace. The first involved a race where participants chugged a pitcher of beer, dashed up the stairs to the entrance, and then slid down the corkscrew slide back into the bar. The last person to reach the bottom of the slide was responsible for purchasing the others' pitchers. The second game required players to gobble down a basket of popcorn while simultaneously drinking their pitcher of beer. The fastest contender would win an additional pitcher on the house. I managed to win a few pitchers from time to time, but I wasn't particularly successful overall.

In contrast, Lien's Pub served as a gathering spot for construction workers and bikers in the neighborhood. My roommate and I decided to enter the bar since Jennifer was acquainted with the owner. Typically, we would stroll to Lien's, confident that Bubba would drive us back at the end of the evening. Even though the regulars lived challenging lives and had not pursued a college education, they generally paid us little attention. However, I recall one particular evening when a formidable woman dared me to take on an endurance challenge. The competition involved consuming a pitcher of beer followed by cycling around the block, with the winner determined by who could complete the most laps.

Due to my limited funds, I was resolute in my aim to win. Although I was lean with minimal muscle compared to my opponent, I had developed a beer tolerance that could compete with most. Growing up biking had provided me with great balance, boosting my confidence. Bubba set down our initial pitchers while Jennifer and another patron prepared our bikes for a quick getaway. The race had commenced! The first lap was straightforward, and we both completed it with ease. However, the impact of the second and third pitchers began to affect our coordination, and uncertainty clouded my thoughts. The fourth pitcher nearly knocked me out, yet I managed to navigate around the track in a shaky manner without toppling over.

By the time we reached the fifth and final pitcher, I was struggling. It took us a considerable time to finish those drinks, so when we headed for our bikes, it was already dark outside. I struggled at first to locate the pedals, but eventually got moving along the sidewalk. My competitor was right behind me until she spectacularly crashed on the second corner. Unwilling to abandon my journey, I pushed through the third and fourth corners, despite feeling dizzy and nauseous. As I crossed the finish line, the regulars cheered and patted my back, pulling me inside the pub for another round.

Just as I was about to relish the delightful taste of triumph, I projectile vomited across the bar. The patrons reacted with disgusted groans, but Bubba remained composed. He helped me into the back of his pickup truck to take me home. Once we arrived at our dorm, Jennifer helped me inside and gently settled me into my bunk so I could recuperate from my regrettable choices.

The next morning came with bright sunlight streaming through my dorm window. Groaning, I raised my head, the aftermath of last night echoing in my skull. But instead of shame, I felt an odd sense of clarity. I realized that while my late-night escapades were fun, they taught me a valuable lesson about balance. I could enjoy my youth while still prioritizing my responsibilities, an essential skill that would serve me well beyond college.

In the following weeks, I refined my approach to studying and socializing. I set stricter limits for my drinking, opting for evenings filled with laughter without the threat of a hangover. My friendships flourished, built on meaningful connections rather than fleeting intoxication. Knowledge began pouring into me like the finest craft beer, and my love for learning rekindled. I triumphantly ended the year with a 4.0 GPA.

During my sophomore and junior years, I realized I could appreciate the atmosphere of Pig’s Palace without the necessity of engaging in frivolous contests. Gone were the days of the reckless freshman in pursuit of beer and recognition; instead, I was evolving into a more well-rounded person who found pleasure in embracing both joy and responsibility. As I began my final year, I approached student teaching and final exams with a sense of duty. I would sometimes share a beer with friends at nearby bars, not as a means of validation, but merely to create lasting memories that would outlive any fleeting night of wild antics.

As graduation approached, I knew I'd leave with more than just a degree; I had gained resilience, insight, and lessons learned through laughter and mistakes. With my friends by my side, I had navigated the chaos of life, emerging stronger—ready for whatever adventure awaited in the next chapter.