Well we did our annual remembrance of Doug Adams on Tuesday night, with a few minor changes. Now the tradition is to setup six pint glasses and fill them all, then you drink them all. Not much to the drinking part. You can slug them if you want, or you can savor them. Either way is fine, because in the book, Ford Prefect slammed his and Arthur Dent sort of just sipped on it. Hell, he didn’t even finish his three before his house got knocked down.
Well we’ve got some new blood in our crew now. Stout and I have been practicing this ritual since the year after Douglas passed away. Well now we have Two-Step and Siege in the group. Two-Step sort of has to be there since she’s my wife and all, and I really sort of don’t like doing anything without her these days. The whole “existing” part of existence gets pretty shitty when she’s not around. And Siege, my newest partner in crime, has decided to become a member of the Brotherhood. Well, that is after we invited him to. Not just anyone can decide to get in, you see. Anyway, yeah, so there you have it. Our two newest members of the group.
So we lined up our six pints, I read a passage from the First Book, the first chapter – the same passage every year, the part where they order their six pints up to the part where he says, “Time is an illusion. Lunch time, doubly so. Drink up.” Then we play a little music, usually Dire Straits because 1) they’re British, and B) Doug Adams loved Dire Straits. Then we drink. So the onlyest thing that’s really changed is that now we have more people drinking with us.
Because in the book they set up three pints for each man, we pour three for each who is celebrating. And like I said, they didn’t even finish them all. But they each had three. Now once all of the three for each person are drained, you can get more beer out and put the glasses away and just enjoy it. But not until the last drop of the original three-for-each pints is drained. It was a damn fine time, and we drank well into the night. It must have been a damn fine time, because at five this morning, I got up and noticed the bedroom door was wide open. I finally found Step sleeping on the couch, naked, covered only with a baby blanket. She has no recollection of going out there or why she would have. Hmm. Me neither.
What with all the celebrations of life, the remembrance ceremonies, the moments of silence and toasts for dead guys, we’re just about drinking every damn night. Layne Staley is on April 5th, we drink a short of scotch for Kimbre on January 4th, Stout’s pop on May 3rd, Douglas Adams on May 11th, then all of our and our buddies’ birthdays… Yeah, it gets a little ridiculous, but there’s always a reason to drink, yeah? And no, in case you’re wondering, I’m not the only one who does this. Check out this link for instance. You know, Douglas has a couple of them though. National Towel Day is another one, where you carry your towel around everywhere you go that day, just to show you’re a hoopy frood.
So next year, maybe we’ll grow the group even more. Let me know if you’re interested in participating in this with us.