"I've probably got 20 beers in me by now," announced the young man in a pitifully slurred voice that boomed with pride all the same. He spoke to his coed posse of about a half dozen — and anyone else within earshot.
It was 8:30 p.m. last Saturday. Creative Loafing's 3rd annual International Beerfest in Ybor City's Centennial Park teemed with 20- and 30-something revelers. Most of the attendees resembled the same beaming faces I see stumbling through SoHo every weekend: young men in cargo shorts and polo shirts, young women in white shorts and low-cut blouses, everyone talking loudly about the level of intoxication they'd achieved.
Many of the attendees Saturday surely had their doubts about being able to get drunk when they were handed a plastic mug that holds about as much fluid as a couple of shot glasses. But with 80 tables offering samples around the park, it was pretty easy to tie one on without even realizing it. A constant stream of beer — which, in the case of Beerfest, included many potent foreign brews — can sneak up on even a seasoned drinker, delivering a powerful buzz that seemingly springs from nowhere.
The event started at 7 p.m., and by the time I randomly encountered some old friends from high school about 90 minutes later, it was clear that they were getting their money's worth ($25 at the door).
"I can't believe I already am feeling it," Hope said, her eyes wide and glassy. "These cups are so small, but, um, I think I'm drunk."
Seth, a man who knows his beers, complimented the selection, which ranged from local favorites like Dunedin Brewery and Tampa Bay Brewing Co. to such popular imports as Boddington's and Stella Artois. "This is Carnivale for alcoholics," he said matter-of-factly.
I wasn't surprised one bit that most of the attendees appeared smashed from the ostensibly small and harmless beer samples. I learned that lesson while at work the other day. We congregated in the conference room with 180 bottles from World of Beer in Westchase. The store's manager, Bethany Sherwin, gave us a quick course on the finer points of taste-testing and then let us loose.
CL food editor Brian Ries suggested we use the spit-buckets to keep from getting intoxicated. I would have none of that, of course, and proceeded to sample about two dozen high-alcohol Belgium brews, among them my beloved Chimay.
For the first half hour, I cruised along fine. But then I looked down at the scorecard and noticed a serious decline in my handwriting. Yep, I was buzzed. And damn close to all-out anesthetized by the time the tasting ended.
We selected eight of the top-rated beers from the office session to be tasted by a team of "expert judges" at Beerfest. The panel included real experts, like Bethany, and not so real experts, like me. Before taking the stage, I spent quality time in the Ybor City Museum Garden, which served as the Beerfest VIP area and, ironically enough, offered wine and cocktails but no beer. I cleansed my palate with a couple of rum-and-cokes and charmed my fellow VIPs with a tale about the last time I had been to the Garden. Five or six years ago, my friend Buck's wife threw a college graduation party for herself. We were all throwin' 'em back prodigiously, and one of our drunken-idiot friends climbed on the statue of Don Vincente Martinez de Ybor. The ancient structure broke and landed on top the guy. An ambulance came. A totally cool party ruined.
Luckily, nothing like that happened in the Garden/VIP area Saturday. But things were sure rowdy when I got on stage to do the beer judging at 9 p.m. The crowd, already sauced, was in no mood to have the music stopped so that we could sip fancy beers and say shit like: "Ah, yes, the ideal combination of bitterness and citrus with a whiff of oak."
Worse, a beach ball bouncing around the crowd was soon hurled at our table, knocking over the bottles of beer and spilling suds on my score sheet. Seeing that we were clearly losing the audience, I leaned into the mic and yelled the first platitude that came to mind: "Who's getting drunk out there?" I hollered with all the manly zeal I could muster.
"Yeah!!!!!" screamed the fist-pumping masses. It got the best response of the evening.
So much for attracting beer connoisseurs to our International Beerfest. Let's admit it: By and large folks drink to get drunk. If the brew happens to be chic or extra tasty, well, that's just a bonus.
This article appears in Oct 24-30, 2007.