The night of January 17th, 2009 will forever go down in infamy for the unbelievable series of events that a small group of friends and I unwittingly encountered at a monster truck rally of all places. I'm sorry that this post is so late, I've been wrestling with how to approach writing about this night in a way that will truly do it justice. I've come to the sad conclusion that perhaps this blog is not the right venue for this tale; not right now anyway. I'm already four days behind on my other posts for the sake of brevity and my own sanity, I'll stick to the review of Zhiguliovskoye for the time being and come back to the epic tale of Monster Jam 09 when I've got a bit more time to sit down and hammer it out properly. For those of you who can't contain your curiosity, I'll just tell you now that the tale of Monster Jam 09' has some of the following elements: Copious amounts of alcohol, drinking with bums, selling beer to frat boys, encounters with generous drug dealers who are covered with blood, Losing a ticket among a buzzing sea of liquored up meat heads and somehow finding it again, and of course, the famous gravedigger. But we'll save this one for another day, and when it finally gets posted, you will get the entire story... that much I can promise you.
Anyway, tonight my friends and I partook in one of the most hallowed of modern American traditions...the monster truck rally. I can no longer claim to be a monster truck virgin after tonight, and I doubt that I will ever be the same again. In keeping with the customs of those brave pioneers who came before me, I came to Monster Jam 09' with a warchest full of all the beer I could possibly handle in one night. Included in that alcoholic arsenal was the one and only Zhiguliovskoye(which I will henceforth refer to as the Ugly Z, for the sake of brevity), which was my beer for the night. I only wish I had left the ugly Z behind, because the putrid taste of this beer is still haunting me days later.
This is not an exaggeration; Ugly Z is the absolute worst beer that I have ever had the misfortune of drinking. Ugly Z actually hardly resembles beer in any way, and it's taste was so unpleasant that I had to wash down every sip with another beer of higher quality. It's actually surprising to me that there is enough of a market for this beer for someone to pay for it to be imported to the states. Maybe I just had a bad batch or something, but it was utterly undrinkable. When I was choking this horrible swill down, a homeless man collecting cans came by seeking donations. I tried to offer him the remains of the Ugly Z which was about half full, but he flatly refused. He was more than happy to take one of my bud lights off of my hands instead. I honestly wouldn't drink this beer again if you paid me less than $30, because the digusting experience is just not worth it to me. But for more that $30, who am I kidding, I'd do just about anything including drinking Ugly Z again.
Budem zdorovy!
Ian
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