For my book release party, I made a “Ruler of the Dirtbags” test:
In an old mason jar, I poured a 16-oz PBR. Then screwed on the lid.
Afterward, I filled a different jar with dirt. Lidded it too.
We had forty people coming over. Lots of food, a huge bin in the back filled with soda, beer, and ice. Open.
Off to the side, in a small, closed cooler, click-locked, I put the old jar of PBR (Hear the rhyme?).
During the night, I watched the cooler. If anyone opened the cooler, saw the jar, shook it, unscrewed the lid, smelled the contents, then drank, then that person – that, my friend – would be the Ruler of the Dirtbags.
I had a song ready. A boxing-announcer-like championship call. Plus the jar of dirt as a trophy.
But nobody did it. Nobody opened the cooler. It stayed closed all night long.
And I wait still.
Come dirty, come all.