Right beer, right now
Every year a handful of magazines publish their annual polls and Colorado winds up in some Top Ten list for some honor we were vaguely aware of, but that no one who lives here really gives a shit about. This happens because magazine editors are lazy and magazine readers are stupid, a convenient alliance that manifests itself in the form of pointless lists, the hallmark of insipid journalism.
“Hey Denver,” some dickweed rag informs us. “You’re the fourth fittest city in America.”
“Thanks,” we respond, surprised. “Is it still cool if we finish these deep-fried mac-and-cheese wedges we just ordered? Seems a shame to waste the whole bucket.”
Colorado's been called one of the smartest places in the country; Denver one of the best singles' city in the nation; we're one of the top 10 places to raise your kids; one of the top 20 to raise someone else’s kids. But it’s all bullshit—especially the smart-city one. You know what that’s based off of? The fact that we have some ridiculous amount of college graduates here. And if you think that just because you graduated from college means you’re intelligent, you obviously haven’t hung out with the Crimson Tide on game day.
Or Harvard lacrosse players.
But the one accolade I’ve always found to ring true is that we’re the drunkest city in America. Maybe they take into account beer sales or the amount of microbreweries in the area; maybe they tally how many DUIs we rack up annually; maybe they just walk down Colfax and talk to people. Whatever the criteria, Denver throws down and we throw down hard. How else do you explain a city that parties harder on Friday night than it does on Saturday? We’re so elated to start tossing ‘em back, we give it our goddamn all on Friday, and thus have a hard time mounting an offensive come Saturday.
At least the pussies among us do.
And yet, the city has never really celebrated our propensity for pounding pilsner, our ability to annihilate ale. Until now.
(Cue drunken trumpets, one fat trumpeter blowing so hard he farts.)
We are in the middle of the first Denver Beer Fest, a 10-day, economy-boosting fête meant to celebrate the city’s brews and alcoholism as a build up to the annual Great American Beer Festival, which has sold out. Now I know it may seem cruel for me to tell you about 10 days of boozy events you're likely to have already missed in the midst of the world’s biggest kegger—which you cannot get into because you’re a short-sighted, feckless dolt—but that’s not the case. You’re perfect just the way you are and everyone is convinced your new iPhone application is going to pop any second.
The real reason I’ve got my pilsner panties all in a bunch is because Denver Beer Fest is just the start. In the spring of 2010, a different group of organizers are rolling out Denver Beer Week! And local officials are working with the organizers of both events to make Denver the pre-eminent beer city. You know the way that cities in Florida are all about their oranges or how Helena has its annual methamphetamine festival? Well, that’s going to be like us, but with beer! Take that Milwaukee, you sausage-smelling fat-asses!
Now trade us Prince Fielder!
I know that there are those out there who probably feel that turning Denver into some sort of beer-soaked Mecca is not the best way to go about growing our fair city, but the truth of the matter is it fits us. Think about the most Colorado person you know, the guy who goes river rafting all summer and skis all winter. How does he wind down a long day in the hills? With some quality brew on his back porch, some pilsner or ale or lager that he’s happy to tell you all about, in painstaking and appreciative detail. And even though that guy is kind of annoying, with all these new beer festivals, we'll be able to get so drunk that we barely notice him.
So welcome to the future, everyone; welcome to Denver, beer capital of the world!
Let’s see those fuckers call us fit now.
