This story is about the first (and at this point still the only) Meatheads Shotgun Challenge. This event took place on a random Wednesday evening back in 2003. I was working at the local Irving as a pump jockey or, as I liked to call it, a Professional Automotive Petroleum Transferring Technician. It was almost the end of my shift when my buddy Roland pulled up to the pumps and said, “You’ve been challenged…”

It’s no secret that I’ve always loved to shotgun beer ever since the first time I tried it – beer bongs, funnels, bendy straws, shotguns… you name it, I love it! I’ll be the first to tell you that I’m not the “fastest” at it, but I have always had the fairly rare ability to do it over and over again (my personal record is 11 in a single night). Most of my buddies need a lot of time in between to recover before they can do another; I usually just need a good belch and a smoke.

However, on this random night two of my best buddies, Cheek and Wheeler, had decided to call me out. Roland delivered the message to me at work. As soon as I got off I was to head out to DogPatch where I would be participating in the first ever “8 pack Shotgun Challenge“. There was nothing on the line, except for pride… but we were going to see, once and for all, who could shotgun a whole 8 pack the fastest. Both of these guys are seasoned Meatheads, so we knew it would be a great show.

Roland came back to the Irving to pick me up at 6:00pm and drove me out to the battleground. When we got there I could see the three 8 packs sitting out on the patio. Everyone was there to watch and Cheek and Wheelski were getting themselves hyped up for what was guaranteed to be a painful night.

We decided the rules of engagement up front: Everyone shotguns (cutting a hole in the bottom of a can, popping the top and funnelling it all in 3-4 seconds) at the same time, which is decided by the first person ready to go again. If you fail to complete the full beer, puke or just can’t get ready in time, then you’re out. None of us were going to quit, so this was sure to be a messy night all around.

The crowd formed and the three of us cut our holes in the first round of cans, being careful to minimize spillage. We stood in a circle, set the watch and counted down.

3, 2, 1, GO! *crack* 1-2-3 *tink tink tink* three empty cans hit the deck – 1 down… 7 to go. I knew that it would be to my benefit to force them down as quickly as possible since I was relatively used to that kind of drinking, they were not. I immediately called for another. Neither of them protested and very soon after we were each two beers deep. I was feeling quite good. I knew I could do another. This time my request for another beer was met with cheers from the crowd and groans from the other competitors, but they pushed through it. Beer number three was a little painful and it was now time for a small break. We all lit smokes and walked it off. After maybe 2 minutes tops, we all agreed to do another. This went on and on… *crack* the crowd counted it, “One! Two! Three!” *tink tink tink* “YAAAA! ”

In no time at all we were 7 beer in and hating life. A quick look at the watch showed us at the 19 minute mark. We were all on our last legs, but still alive and, honestly, not even drunk yet.

With the crowd egging us on, we all cut open beer number 8. It looked like we were all going to make it through the full 8 pack with no clear victor. Everyone had stepped up to the plate. We got in our drinking circle, only a few feet from each other – our competitive edge was gone and it had turned into a team sport. We pumped each other up, gave cheers all around, counted it down and, right at the 21 minute mark, we went for it! *crack*

“One! Two! Three! Four! Fi…” *tink tink tink*

The crowd went wild!! It was a little longer than normal, but we all put it down. 8 cans of beer in just 21 minutes! A new Meathead record!!

The three of us were keeled over, hands on our knees… trying to burp without exploding. I felt sort of ok. I didn’t feel nauseous really, just super gassy. I stood up straight to burp and de-pressurize. What exited my mouth was nowhere near a burp… it was a huge stream of violent projectile vomit. I didn’t even feel a tickle in my throat, no warning what-so-ever. I guess my stomach had just reached its capacity and 3 litres of beer came rushing out. Keep in mind we were still standing in our drinkin circle…

Wheeler was directly across from me and I completely covered him in vomit – head to toe. There was a quick moment of silence as I sat eye to eye with my puke covered friend. Wheeler then threw his arms in the air and cheered!

“WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!”

The crowd erupted and joined him in celebration. He took off on a victory lap around the deck. I had never seen someone so excited to be in that state. That’s when I realized why… he and Cheek had just won! Going into the event their goal was simply to beat me, and both of them had succeeded.

As for myself, I had just drunk 8 beers in 21 minutes, puked it all back up and didn’t even catch a fucking buzz. I was sober as a judge (possibly a bad example here in Yarmouth, but you get the idea).

Wheeler cleaned up quickly and borrowed some clothes from Gentry. He and Cheek actually kept drinking and they even shared another tall boy can before leaving for a party. I guess they were completely incoherent within an hour. I went home defeated.

I challenged them to a rematch on multiple occasions, but both of them decided to retire on top. I was never given a chance to win back my throne – dirty bastards. I’d love to try this again sometime, though… any challengers??