Happy St. Patrick’s Day everybody! The sadist in me almost enjoys that it fell on a Monday this year, and all the people who like to “go hard” were mostly unable to do so, or had to pick between the two separate weekends it fell between to arbitrarily celebrate.
But happy Irish day nonetheless.
Anyway, I noticed it’s been a while since I blogged more from a first-person perspective, recounting my own tales in a humorous way for your personal enjoyment, and instead have been focusing more on current events. It means either one of two things: a lot has been going in the world lately, or my life has just become more and more dull.
Either way, I want to return to my roots of narrating self-deprecating stories about myself, and I have one for you from this past weekend.
This one revolves around a drinking game. When Solo Cups and Bud Light are involved, there’s only so many games you can play that are suitable for a large group. Beer pong is a pretty exclusive game that takes a while to complete, so it’s really not the best group game.
Flip cup, on the other hand, really is only fun when there’s a large group. I’m personally not the biggest fan of the game because I think it involves minimal drinking and that way too much time is spent between rounds rather than during. But, it promotes camaraderie and teamwork, and who doesn’t like that?
So that’s why I found myself on Saturday night surrounding a ping-pong table with 12 other individuals playing Survivor Flip Cup. For those unaware, this variety of the game could be played one of two ways: The winning side of any given round gets to “vote off” a player from the losing side, or, the winning side absorbs a player of choice from the losing side (our choice). Either way, the last team standing is the winner.
And that, subsequently, is how I found myself standing alone on one side of the table, competing directly against 12 others.
Ironically, I was actually the captain of the team that had the 12 members, but through a couple dozen rounds in which multiple people were swapped, I ended up on opposite side. Of course, when a team faces a deficit, the players need to compensate by drinking extra cups. For example, if it is eight against four, each person on the team of four will drink two cups in order to keep it even.
Anyway, I ended up being the solo guy on one side, and was basically the one being thrown to the wolves. The sacrificial lamb. I had to drink — and flip — 12 cups before every one else on the other team. It was like a modern day David and Goliath. And once I lost, the game would be over.
I filled the 12 cups, lined them up, and was prepared to at least go down fighting. Had their been any one else on my team to talk to, it may have been an appropriate time to deliver the “I am William Wallace” speech from Braveheart. Although, he ended up losing the battle and being gruesomely tortured to death, so that may have not been the best comparison.
But the round began, and somewhere between cups three and four, something happened.
You know how when you’re in the middle of something important, whether it’s school or work related, or anything else, and you’re just waiting for your brain to suddenly click, and for you to become super efficient? Only it never happens? Well it happened here, on that Saturday, during a game of flip cup.
I became a man possessed — a flip master, if you will — and successfully flipped the final six cups on one try. Suddenly, I could see the numbers in air. My brain calculated the perfect angle, speed and trajectory in which to flip every cup. I was like John Nash in A Beautiful Mind. An assembly line of one.
After flipping the twelfth cup, I looked up, and the other team had yet to finish.
The opposing team of a dozen was so impressed that they actually gave me a two-minute long ovation. And that, my friends, was probably my greatest single accomplishment since high school.
Of course, my improbable win only served to prolong the game, which continued for another 45 minutes and ultimately ended in a draw. So it actually prevented anybody from gaining any further sense of victory and arguably made the entire near two-hour game a giant waste of time … but, at least I got a great story out of it!
Next time I’m asked during a job interview about my greatest accomplishments, or have to write any type of retrospective essay on my life’s highest point, I will henceforth remember the time I overcame one against 12 in a game that’s culturally known for being most popular among college-aged girls.
Aim high, people. Aim high.