“Dark Lord Day was probably the most overwhelming beer event I’ve ever been to.” — James
Paul: Where were you on March 5 at noon? If you are a craft beer fan, chances are you were like me, manning multiple electronic devices — I was on 4 — in hopes of purchasing Dark Lord Day 2016 tickets. My buddy James was on the other side of the country in California was doing the same with a few of his friends while nursing their hangovers with mimosas.
The beer gods were looking down on me that day as I somehow managed to purchase Group B tickets. Despite receiving the confirmation email, I didn’t believe it until I had the passes sent to me weeks later. James wasn’t so lucky. I sent him a text.
You down to to go to Dark Lord?
Hells yeah!
James: I don’t know where to start, really. Dark Lord Day was probably the most overwhelming beer event I’ve ever been to. So I suppose I should probably start at the beginning:
We boarded the shuttle bus for the event. Packed a bunch of bombers in a cooler bag, thought I was dressed warmly enough, ate, and I was ready to roll as long as it wasn’t going to follow the usual trend of horrible, horrible Dark Lord Day weather. As they say, the gods like to punish hubris. We were halfway there trying to ignore the pretentious bourbon geek douchebag sitting behind us when the already drizzling sky decided that yes, this is Dark Lord Day so make with the near freezing temperatures and rain.
Weather aside, most attendees of Dark Lord Day remark the most about the lines and the sharing on said lines. We disembarked the bus and stood in the first line we saw, which ended up being the group A allotment line. As we were group E and had many hours of hard drinking ahead of us, we eventually found the line to get in. The detritus of a hundred shares lay on the grass next to us. So many bottles that I wanted but could never even trade for littered the ground — Bourbon County variants, fruited Side Project bottles, and so forth — discarded like so much dross. What glories laid beyond the ticket check and the giant tents beyond? All that separated my liver from all this rare ass beer was 100+ people standing in the rain. I just had to be patient.
My original plan: Drink lambic until I got heartburn, which would limit how drunk I got. Other than a couple of bottles which I planned to pop early, everything I brought wasn’t terribly rare but definitely stuff that didn’t distribute to greater Chicagoland. I figured I could trade for extra Dark Lord with people.
Reality: “Oh shit, Cherry Rye! Of course I’d like some.”
“OMG I would LOVE a pour of Handjee.”
“Lou Pepe 2013? Yes please.”
And so on and so forth. My Untappd feed was a pretty good live account of my descent into insanity. What started as fairly detailed tasting notes at the beginning ended up as me just saying “this dick sweats” over and over again. How could it be sweating? It was about 35 degrees and pouring rain. Of the 48 things I checked in that day, I only really remember the first 36 of them. After that, there’s a gigantic blank spot in my memory. The first thing I remember after that, I was outside of the festival, allotment not to be found other than one bottle of regular Dark Lord, soaked to the skin, and I was waiting for a cab. I got back to the hotel, too cold to even shiver, hopped in the shower, fell multiple times, and went to sleep.
Paul: We started poppin’ bottles while waiting on line and starting sharing with our neighbors and vice versa. Once inside, we walked past the heavy metal main stage and made our way to a tent with a DJ playing everything from 90′s dance to classic hip-hop and where the biggest bottle share I have ever seen was taking place. I walked around in sheer amazement. It was overwhelming to say the least.
We settled on a spot at a table and partook in the share. For hours we shared bottle after bottle with people from all over the country. Amongst all of the sharing and meeting new people, I noticed that James had been absent for an unusual amount of time. I decided to leave the tent in search of him.
James: The actual mystery of what happened would not be solved until the next day when we took a drive to Mars Cheese Castle in Kenosha, WI. We took a seat at the bar for a couple of their famous Bloody Marys when I hear a woman’s voice say “Hey James! How are you doing?”. I turn my head and see a woman I do not recognize.
“Do I know you?”
“I’m not surprised you don’t remember me. I’m a paramedic who worked Dark Lord Day yesterday. I know you’re a respiratory therapist from New Jersey, you told me repeatedly that you ‘were in the industry’.”
APPARENTLY, I got wasted — no shit — and busted my ass in front of the EMT tent, so they hauled me in. My friend Sean ended up signing me out of the tent and I couldn’t even collect my allotment, so I went back to Chicago for rounds of sobriety and regret. Live and learn, right?
Paul: At one point, I noticed James in the distance walking towards the shuttle buses. The share was still going strong and the DJ was playing the hits. I decided to stay behind and I would take the last shuttle bus back to Chicago. I made a few new friends and we all made our way to the dance floor. I was getting my 90′s dance on when this pretty girl- whom we’ll call Jill - introduced herself and started dancing with me. In a momentary lapse of judgement, I set my allotment bag down and had my new “friend” look after it.
After dancing for awhile, I went to retrieve my tote bag. My “friend” told me that he didn’t know what happened to it. Initially, I was angry and lost even more faith in humanity but those feelings dissipated. I was having such a great time that it didn’t matter all that much to me and I went right back on the dance floor with Jill. The party was winding down and Jill and her friends requested an Uber. The 6 of us packed into a Sedan like a clown troupe en route to Jill’s place where we continued the party. In the words of John Cusack’s character — Rob Gourdon — in the movie High Fidelity.
“I can say we had a good time. I can say that.”
Despite having my allotment stolen, Dark Lord Day 2016 was an experience that I will never forget. What I lost in bottles, I gained in memories. In the end that’s what it’s all about. I mean it’s just beer — right?
Once again, I will be manning multiple devices this Saturday when tickets go on sale to the public. I can only hope that I will be lucky enough to attend this year’s festivities. If so, I will know what to expect — or maybe not.
James: If we get tickets this year, this is my new plan to ensure I get an allotment and not black out. Show up an hour or two before my allotment time, limit myself to 1 oz pours, avoid mysterious brownies, and get while the getting’s good. This is an event designed to get every attendee completely wasted, so I’m going to follow the old axiom of “Proper Planning Prevents Piss Poor Performance”.
