Brunslo is my hero, but he smells of vinegar

To celebrate Steve's recent birthday, we gathered something like twenty people together and commandeered a big table at the Cornelius Pass Roadhouse last night. Brunslo made one of his rare appearances outside the Reed campus, accompanied by his girlfriend Anna (who, as Lillis can't resist pointing out at every possible opportunity, plays rugby).

At some point during dinner, someone mentioned Brunslo's history of eating and drinking copious amounts of really weird things, like garlic sauce or ketchup. A large bottle of malt vinegar happened to be sitting right in front of me, so I offered to pay Brunslo a dollar for each glass of vinegar he drank. Sadly, he turned me down, claiming that his sauce-drinking days were a relic of his formative years.

As dinner came to an end and discussion of the check began to occur, I made one last desperate attempt to convince Brunslo it was in his best interest to drink a glass of vinegar, but still he would not yield. Then Anna did something brilliant: she suggested that he drink half a glass in return for my picking up his check. I agreed wholeheartedly. Then she did something even more brilliant: she suggested that he drink an entire glass in return for my picking up both his check and her check. Cunning!

With his girlfriend urging him on, Brunslo acquiesced. The glass was filled to the brim with vinegar. The table became quiet, the waitress rolled her eyes, and Brunslo gulped that motherfucker down like a stupendous badass. He didn't even so much as gasp afterward. It was a tremendously moving experience, and not just because of the overpowering smell that made us all move away from the table.

It soon became obvious that Brunslo was not as enamored of the vinegar as he had been of the beer, but to his credit he didn't vomit or whine or kill me or anything. And he and Anna got a free dinner out of it. Still, he definitely wasn't enjoying its effects, so I felt kinda bad.

Not bad enough that I wouldn't do it again, though.