Lake Miller Lite

Oh, the pain. The pain of being forced to dump a TON of ice cold beer into a field.

So, apparently when a campground expressly prohibits alcohol, they mean it.

Allow me to backtrack a bit.

El Jefe and his pal, Rob, picked me up Friday evening (I was already good and buzzed from the pre-camping ingestion of blessed alcohol) and we got to Dingman's Campground around 9 pm or so. We had to go to the front office and announce our arrival, because we were on a list of Registered Campers, or some such nonsense. There, they went over The Rules with us: No Alcohol, Firearms, Pets, Weaponized Hallucinogens, Mexicans, etc. We were grinning because we had several coolers of beer and Sparks stashed in the Jeep. I had also packed two pints of Wild Turkey into my duffel bag, because I have a Problem.

We made our way to our Designated Lot, and immediately began defying the No Alcohol Rule. We weren't being obvious about it, we were drinking out of coffee mugs and whatnot. The problem was, "Quiet Time" goes into effect at 10 pm, and we were listening to music. It wasn't loud, or anything, but it was enough to piss off someone from another Lot. Around Midnight Security snuck up on us. They nailed me first, since I was sitting with my back to the main road. I had my beer in a mug, but (being functionally retarded) I had one of the pints of Turkey at my feet. As soon as they clicked on their flashlights, I moved to hide the bourbon in my hoodie, but it was too late. Security Guy said something like "Don't try to hide that, sir, we already saw it." Fuckshitpiss.

The two Security folks (the aforementioned guy, and his female companion) then went around the fire, asking everyone if they were drinking alcohol. We all were (seven of us in total), except for Rob. Rob doesn't drink, he just digs the Leafy Greens. Security Guy patted me down, and when he asked me what the one lump in my pocket was, I told him it was a folding knife. He stiffened up and said "Keep the weapon in your pocket!" Like I was contemplating stabbing him, or something. (Okay, the thought DID cross my mind, just for a second...)

He went around the fire again, collecting our Driver's Licenses to make sure we were all of age (which we were, thank God), and asking if we had any weapons (it was so tempting to say something like "Just some RPG's, a Dirty Bomb, and a crate of AK47's, Sir."- I decided against being a wiseass, since the campsite was registered under Becky's name, and I didn't want to exacerbate things by being disrespectful, thereby compounding whatever Fine or Legal Action they were apt to persue. I don't mind digging my own grave, but I didn't want to drag Becky or anyone else down with me).

The Security Folk then went through our coolers (which we had been too stupid to hide, we just left them sitting there on the side of the tents when we arrived.), and made us walk across the road to dump all of the beer (ALL OF THE BEER!!!) into a field. It was either dump the alcohol and stay, or keep the booze and leave immediately. We couldn't leave, because most of us were already drunk, and no one wanted to have to pack up all of tents and shit in the dark. That would just be silly.

We decided to be calm and respectful, since we knew that if we hassled Security in any way, they would hassle us back. A few of us had some illicit substances on us or in the tents, and we were all eager to avoid a Complete Search of our belongings. Somehow, Security Guy had decided that I was in charge of the group or something (I think it was because everyone else was being quiet, except Rob- who was being slightly belligerent [which was a Bad Idea, considering the fact that he had a pocket full of dope], so I stepped up to talk to S.G. as a distraction). I was in no position to represent everyone there. It was a bit odd. I was shucking and jiving, trying to get on his good side, and attempting to keep us all out of trouble.

So, we poured out can after can of sweet, sweet beer. Probably close to a hundred cans, no lie. That was brutal. In the confusion of rounding up all of us Scofflaws, Security Guy had forgotten all about my pint of Wild Turkey, and I took advantage of the situation. I had secreted it in my hoodie, and used the half of a Turkey sandwich ("Hey, this is just a sandwich, can I go put it over in the other cooler with the rest of the food?") in my cooler as an excuse to walk back to the Jeep and stash my bourbon in my bag. Thank you, Jeebus. I really don't think I would've been able to pour it out into the dirt. There would have been a stabbing.

While I was at the Jeep, I theorized that we would perhaps be able to save our Sparks. If they weren't familiar with it, they might not realize that it has alcohol in it. If was was just able to cover the small portion of the can that states "7% alcohol," it might be possible to convince Security Guy that it's just an Energy Drink. Unfortunately, by the time I made it back to The Field of Doom, Ken had already begun pouring out our Sparks. Fuckshitpiss.

Security then presented Becky (since she had signed for the Lot) with a $75.00 ticket for Consumption of Alcohol. No biggie, we all kicked in the cash. I was really afraid that it was going to be a much larger Fine, but then I remembered that we weren't in Jersey, the Land of Excessive Fines.

After Security left, we rounded up all of the booze they hadn't found (because we are incorrigible drunks). It amounted to a case of beer, my pint and a half of bourbon, and half of a rather large bottle of Yukon Jack. Game on. We kept the beer on the D.L., and we filled a Snapple bottle with some Yukon, so we could pass it around undercover. It worked out rather well, and between the Yukon and some Leafy Greens, I had cultivated enough of a buzz to pass out in the front seat of Rob's Jeep (remember, I didn't bring a tent, sleeping bag, or anything practical on this trip, because I'm stoopid) sometime around 3 am.

That was only the first night's adventure. I have plenty more to type, but I have to go poop now. I'll have to split this up into two (perhaps even three) parts. It works out better for you Faithful Readers (all four of you), because I know your attention spans are stunted.

I'll finish this either later or tomorrow...