A hilarious story from a Canadian (Eh!?) Buddy of mine that I can't help but share...
Back in my university days in the early 70's I shared a townhouse with several buddies. During that period of our lives we consumed "some" beer, and there was a popular beer commercial from the US that showed this average looking dude drink a can of beer and then crushing the can against his forehead.
Well, for us American beer was easy to get because we all lived a short drive from the border. And, with concerts, school sports and cute US chicks just down the road, we were often visiting New York and Michigan. I can't remember exactly, but I would venture MOSTLY, we purchased cheap Yankee beer for the return trip. MOST times this meant a trunk full of beer (That was a 1968 Buick 88 trunk.)
Now, since we were young and MOSTLY brain dead from the ahhhh... school work, somehow the five of us boys took up the habit of smashing those beer cans on our foreheads. You can picture this can't you? Five guys in a room drinking beer from cans and then banging those empty cans onto their heads. Big fun, and big laughs.
Well........American beer comes in aluminum cans of very, very, very thin gauge. When empty, they are really easy to crush on any part of the body. Thus, no pain......and often very dramatic and funny effects. Canadian beer, in cans, well, it's different. The construction of the cans is different, and the metal gauge is way heavier.
So, there we were one night in our living room having a few beers and celebrating the fact that it was ....who knows....Tuesday?? (We were also probably watching reruns of Gilligan's Island, or Adam 12 on TV.) Anyway, we had all consumed six or ten cans of Yankee beer with several empties getting bounced off of someone's skull. Then, several young ladies from next door dropped by, bringing (got to love them) several cases of good old Canadian beer .....in cans.
A round or two later, after the consumption of some brownies, we were all drinking from those Canadian cans. So, there we were. Five young (very good looking men) with four (very wholesome, dainty and "whoooa hold me down!") young ladies, all enjoying life, freedom, the pursuit of happiness (amount other things) and the fruits of the hops and yeast growers of this earth.
Then, in the blink of an eye, it all went to hell in a hand basket. We all saw it coming, and we all wanted to stop it from happening, but were all way too slow to react. (It must have been the 'sugar' in those brownies.) It was like slow motion and I can still remember it as clearly as if it was happening right in front of my eyes at this very instant. My one pal tossed back the dregs of his can, then stretched out his arm to its fullest reach, and then drove that CANADIAN BEER CAN right into his forehead. The "thunk" was frightening............and the spurt of blood had the strangest effect on two of the ladies.
Reaction time, the safety people are always telling us, was obviously reduced by the effects of our consumption. Nevertheless, after several minutes of pure hilarious laughter....we realized that our friend required medical attention. One of the ladies was training as a nurse, but at that point she was being given mouth to mouth by my roommate. So, we were forced into action and to drive our dear wounded buddy to the campus medical clinic. Needless to say getting him, four guys and four girls into the car was the hardest thing we did that night. Then, convincing the campus cops that an emergency was in progress came a close second. Trying to convince the doctor that we were really university graduate students came third.
My buddy (married with two teenagers and an editor for a major newspaper now) still carries the "seven stitch" scar on his forehead. A year ago, when by chance and luck, most of all those in attendance that eventful evening, all managed to meet at his house in Ontario. It was the ah "nurse" who, after several cans of beer, suddenly pointed to his head and said, "ya had any close encounters with flying metal lately?" Which of course sent everyone to the floor and created the biggest problem for my buddy when his two teenage girls (14-15.....going on 23-24) demanded to know what the big joke was. It seems daddy had told them the scar had been a hockey accident when he, playing defense, went down to stop a puck from entering his team's empty net.
Oh the tangled webs we weave.
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