Have no fear, bathtub beer is here

With each tick of the clock's hand, the guests were reminded of their thirst. In exchange for the flash of an ID and a timely arrival, each had been promised an evening of free beer. But the beer never came.

On the last Friday in May, blogger, music journalist, and former Winnipeg-wonder Alex Chinien had planned a party. It was to be one of 40 taking place in Toronto and Montreal, as part of a marketing initiative for the recently re-branded Danish brew Carlsberg. Having successfully thrown my own beer-blogging party just a few weeks earlier, as "research" for a feature article, I was ready for another night of free Carlsberg and excessive debauchery.

Unfortunately, only the latter happened. At first, we thought the delivery must be running late. But as Alex started pacing past his sober friends and re-reading the pre-party e-mails, we both began to worry. Eventually I got a company rep on the phone, who apologized profusely and explained there had been an unfortunate mix up in dates, on their end.

Did we want the beer tomorrow? Yes! No! Wait a minute... we were still sober yet our heads hurt with mind-altering confusion. There seemed to be only one solution. He had promised beer and he would deliver. I hung up the phone and with only ten minutes till closing, we raced to the closest corner store.

There we picked up enough brown-bottled beer for our small army of guests. Our choice? Labatt Blue. Not classy nor cool, but a cornerstone of the times: with its lower stick price Blue became the quickest way to get a room drunk.

When we returned bearing gifts all was quickly forgiven and forgotten. The bathtub was filled with ice, and our hearts were filled with that warm, happy, boozey feeling. The music was turned up and the first hour of sober sitting seemed the distant past.

And though we'd planned to wake with angry blog posts in our fingertips, the eventual rise came in the afternoon and I felt too tired to express any anger. After all, Carlsberg had offered to pay for the Blue, and re-schedule Alex's Danish delivery. Four weeks later, the Carslberg finally came.

A picture of a green pyramid of empties surfaced this week on the Montreal music blog the Heart Attack Club, proof that part two of the party was equally entertaining. And if nothing else, the entire ordeal produced what is possibly the cutest wall post I've ever seen:

To his girlfriend, Jen of the Neighbours Next Door the salty-sweet lyrics of late capitalism: "being compromised by beer companies is not nearly as fun as being compromised by you."

Too cute.

Photos from the no-show night below. If you're wondering why we get to drink free beer and you don't, click here. (Or send an e-mail, maybe drinks are on the house)

icy blue

Wish these two were my neighbours next door

I got a big Bud, too.

What do you call four Winnipegers in Montreal?

Balcony babes