Gather ’round, children, and let me tell you of a story … no, a legend … that was passed down to me through years of past alumni of the college from whence I graduated, my leaving with one degree more than I had and several million brain cells less. What does this story have to do with food? Beer is food, so pipe down and listen.
During my years as an undergrad, a common problem plagued me and many of my beermates: how can we attend a school football game and still drink beer, at the same time? Forget the idea of sneaking in hard liquor — we were beer drinkers, by God, and we were not going to be cheapened to imbibing from hollowed-out binoculars or a shoe flask! How droll! Beer, dammit!
So, as we sat ’round the glow of the dorm room TV, a senior sat down and told us of how he had heard of one group of students not only successfully sneaking beer into a football game, but an entire keg!
“Horse hockey!” blurted one of us, or some equally repulsive phrase involving an animal and something gross. “How did they get it past the security?”
“Simple,” replied the senior. “They bought it a ticket.”
Our eyes widened, our mouths drooled and our grips tightened on our Milwaukee’s Best as we listened to this unbelievable tale, during a commercial break from ST:TNG.
As the story goes, these students took it upon themselves to buy an extra ticket to the football game in question. It so-happened to be an incredibly cold night for a game, which was very important to the overall plan. This ticket was indeed for the beer keg, but it had to be disguised. How would someone be allowed into a game and not have to actually hand a ticket to the ticket taker?
The answer was simple: dear decrepit, ailing, freezing, oxygen-deprived and wheelchair-bound Grandpa.
The plan was devilishly simple. Take a quarter keg and seat it on a typical wheelchair. Dress the keg in a heavy winter coat and blankets, and add some stuffed trousers for good measure (old men wear trousers, not pants. Dungarees would work just as well.) In the jacket sleeves: sleeves of cups, of course.
Grandpa’s face is freezing, too, so bundle that up with a scarf and an oxygen mask … attached to an actual tank. However, said tank does not contain O². Instead, it is actually attached to the quarter keg and contains CO². That’s right, you don’t even need to pump the keg!
There’s a bonus to this plan. Because you have a wheelchair-bound spectator, you get the prime, obstruction-free seating.
This story has lived on for decades, and I’ve yet to hear of a true instance of this plan being put into play; it is but mere legend. I’m unable to find a flaw with it, other than I never tried it myself because I was always too much of a wuss to attempt it. But why? Who would bother an ailing, napping old man coming to see his grandson play a game on a bitter winter night? No one other than an evil, uncaring jackass, that’s who!
Got a better story than this? Let’s hear it. Even better, if you can pull this off on video and send it off to us exclusively, I’ll figure out some prize to send you — a bunch of DVDs, whatever.
I now bring you back to your regularly scheduled fancy-chmancy food posts….
Clacked by Keith McDuffee 
on Jun 16, 2009 @ 14:00 EST5EDT
That floppy flask you have pictured above the comments is my weapon of choice. We all bought a coke at the start of the game, then we downed the coke and used the cups. I don’t think the old grandpa trick would work at a Rutgers game :/