2008 Woodie Awards
I Can't Believe I... Went Streaking
Luke McIntyre
Issue date: 10/16/07 Section: Life
This is the story of the first and only time I've streaked, or taken off my clothes and ran. Sprinted, really, for a usually pre-determined amount of distance, which I suppose is the only difference between streaking and a nudist's morning jog. I'll pretend to start the story the same way I actually started the night: not knowing it was going to happen.
I like to think of myself as having a certain level of masculinity. Most men do. A few years ago when a lot of alcohol companies started coming out with an assortment of new flavored malt beverages, usually marketed toward the lady-folk, a couple of my also-masculine friends and I decided it was our manly duty to be as informed as we could about alcohol. Even if it came in the form of a chick drink.
We three young men felt a little silly at the grocery register watching six packs of things like Mike's Hard Lemonade move slowly up the conveyer belt. The cashier looked at us strangely. I felt like going hunting or driving an oversized pickup truck, which is what a lot of guys do when they're overcompensating for something they feel is lacking.
We felt even sillier when our friends began heckling us while drinking their gender-appropriate beverages. We returned their taunts by mocking anything on them we could see-clothes, teeth, girlfriends-but not matter how good my comeback I still followed it with a sip from a bottle marked "Strawberry flavored so and so…" Luckily, the conversation changed topics. I was about to overcompensate someone in the face.
Looking back I can't remember if we simply overbought or didn't think there was any significant amount of alcohol in these effeminate bubbly concoctions, but we ended up taking in a lot of the things, forcing it down when the sweet drinks turned our stomachs sour. Maybe we thought drinking heavily was the last way to rescue what was left of our manhood. Of course, men are also known to willingly participate in very, very stupid activities-war, bull riding, pie-eating contests, or anything where you can pay money to win a prize worth less than said money. I was about to prove my manliness.
I like to think of myself as having a certain level of masculinity. Most men do. A few years ago when a lot of alcohol companies started coming out with an assortment of new flavored malt beverages, usually marketed toward the lady-folk, a couple of my also-masculine friends and I decided it was our manly duty to be as informed as we could about alcohol. Even if it came in the form of a chick drink.
We three young men felt a little silly at the grocery register watching six packs of things like Mike's Hard Lemonade move slowly up the conveyer belt. The cashier looked at us strangely. I felt like going hunting or driving an oversized pickup truck, which is what a lot of guys do when they're overcompensating for something they feel is lacking.
We felt even sillier when our friends began heckling us while drinking their gender-appropriate beverages. We returned their taunts by mocking anything on them we could see-clothes, teeth, girlfriends-but not matter how good my comeback I still followed it with a sip from a bottle marked "Strawberry flavored so and so…" Luckily, the conversation changed topics. I was about to overcompensate someone in the face.
Looking back I can't remember if we simply overbought or didn't think there was any significant amount of alcohol in these effeminate bubbly concoctions, but we ended up taking in a lot of the things, forcing it down when the sweet drinks turned our stomachs sour. Maybe we thought drinking heavily was the last way to rescue what was left of our manhood. Of course, men are also known to willingly participate in very, very stupid activities-war, bull riding, pie-eating contests, or anything where you can pay money to win a prize worth less than said money. I was about to prove my manliness.
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