New East Coast Syndicate: Beer Cx - The Mother Of All Non Races

P. T. Barnum you have no game when it comes to the greatest show on earth. That honor now belongs to MRC/NECS’s own Braveheart, who has morphed Beer Cross from a back alley excuse to drink and ride bikes to an amazing spectacle that left non–racers in awe and spectators with sore arms and sore ribs. When asked how he managed to pull such an extravaganza off Braveheart provided this candid response for our cameras

But before we can get into the details one must rewind the tape to earlier in the day as final preparations kicked into high gear. With Mrs C-Dubbs coming later in the day I mounted the trusty D2R2 chariot complete with flask full of Del Maguay mounted and headed off with my Sherpa pack of clothes. Having survived the massive grind up Cherry Hill Rd I arrived at the Braveheart Beer Cross compound winded but spirits buoyed by the ability to do a bit of pre non race partying. With our Master of Ceremonies picking up the final 30 bags of ice required to chill all of the beverages I did a bit of social time with Mrs Braveheart and set about finalizing preparations for the upper deck gauntlet. The arrival of Large Marge and her bounty of party supplies meant only one thing – time to head to the man cave for a Board of Directors meeting , some serious cocktailing and a bit of inspiration from the cockpit of Large Marge.

Fully inspired, Braveheart and I set about marking the local roads with the necessary signage to guide all non racers to the momentary center of the universe.

Satisfied that our mission had been accomplished the Master of Ceremony and I headed back to Rancho Malerio, parked at the man cave where further inspiration had us scrambling around like over caffeinated Chihuahuas putting on the final touches on the most feared section of any Beer Cross event – the party zone- a place that has been know to sort the men from the boys, the women from the girls and your lunch from your stomach.

Trophy Table

Putting those cinch straps to good use

Our Host and Hostess - The King & Queen of Non Race Parties

Paul "Static Cling" LeTour

From here it was a 2 Dales Pale Ale apiece as we marked off the course of death. Right as this task was finished Top Chef arrived with Paul Le Tour and while Mr Static Cling put the final touches on his costume the full Board of Directors met in the Large Marge boardroom to discuss the course. A quick recon lap, a couple of minor alterations (I would regret these changes once the race was under way) and all that was left was the final layout of options non racers could select each lap and trust me if you went the non alcoholic route it was going to be painful.
The choices were –

· Glass of Hurricane Kitty (perhaps one of the finest yeasty malted beverages)
· Jalapenos
· Spicy pickled pepper eggs
· Sardines
· English version of Twinkies
· Spam

We saved putting out the Spam for last not wanting to risk spoilage in the warmer temps. Alas this would prove to make no difference, as we opened the can we were greeted with a rank odor akin to a can of soft cat food. After a couple of minutes of gagging we donned the HAZMAT suits and doled out the quantities to be consumed on each lap. Satisfied with the destruction and havoc that the party station would cause it was off to the main house for the gathering of non racers.

A final inspirational board of directors meeting in the Large Marge boardroom and it was off to the start for a final round of shots and the reading of the non race non rules.

One advantage of being a board member is knowing that non rules can’t be broken since there are no rules at a non race. While others might have been less knowledgeable on this Top Chef and I quickly plotted strategy and with Braveheart belting out “On your marks”, “Get set”, we ran for the bikes and quickly sprinted for the first stop at the party zone.

Strategic bike placement put C-Dubbs into the lead going into the new course section through the woods but in a turn of karma kickback a stick reached up, grabbed hold of my chain and did a full nelson on the rear derailleur.

And the winner is stick

As Top Chef went past it looked like Beer Cross was over and I would be spending the balance of the event at the party zone. Then like a hot kiss at the end of a wet fist it dawned on me, this is Beer Cross and in Cx carrying your bike is a part of the race. Shouldering my ride I ran to the beer zone where TC and I toasted with a Hurricane Kitty before setting off. Earlier you will recall time was spent prepping the upper deck gauntlet, well here is how it went on the first pass through as TC did circles around a despondent Anthony Wiener who kept screaming that he had won the election and that Cindy Leathers was full of shit.

The rare New England Big Finger, a distant cousin of Big Foot and mutant offspring of Mikesquatch

With Top Chef (aka Bones) leading the charge, C-Dubbs being heckled by all non racers and unruly crowd members and the water balloon gauntlet out of ammo everyone moved to the man cave to egg on participants on their selection each lap. From what little I remember on each pass through Top Chef always seemed to be parked at the keg and was clearly enjoying the local micro brew on tap. Meanwhile the peanut gallery was constantly chanting for someone, anyone to brave one of the peppered/pickled eggs – clearly they wanted to see the Technicolor yawn that Beer Cross has become famous for. I don’t know if anyone actually opted for these but myself, I opted for the speed route through the man cave and hammered Del Maguay from the flask mounted on my bike each time through until the flask was dry at which point I turned to the jalapenos with a Hurricane Kitty chaser.

The combination of a lot of mescal, a good helping of Hurricane Kitty, countless jalapenos and a lot of running was reeking havoc with the lower regions of my belly and more than once on the descent to the bonfire pit I had to hold back the rising tide of unhappy food combinations. Noticing the screwed up look on my face our male ballerina noted how he was only able to get half a piece of Spam down before it came back up for a final look at the real world. Activity at the man cave was fierce with Mrs Top Chef (aka Hooty) having a go at the dizzy bat and careening off into the deep weeds while her team mate, Lil' Kim merely heckled all of us and encouraged mass consumption of alcoholic beverages.

With special guest timing judge, the Mayor, counting down the final minutes (the insanity went on for a full 40) the carnage continued to pile up with Lil’ Marge and the child seat crashing, Tex Obamador (the north of the border cousin of El – Obamador) blowing out his bottom bracket and parking it at the Man Cave and our WWF Death Wrestler leaving a trail of empty Dale’s around the course. With time over and everyone gathered at the man cave, it was one final drink off before heading out on the parade finish with our master of ceremonies showing the way.

As non racers milled about the bonfire consuming even moar beer and Patron the judges went about the grueling task determining the various winners (everyone was warned at the beginning that being the first across the line was no assurance of winning). When the dust finally settled and the coffee house smoke cleared, the judges came to these final conclusions –

· Booby Prize and a growler of Hurricane Kitty – Lil’ Marge (I mean really, how can you non race with a child seat and not have your kid in it)
· First Place Team & Women and a growler of Hurricane Kitty – Mrs Top Chef and Lil’ Kim (proof that an owl can drink and fall down)
· Most Laps (and certainly most beer consumed) and a growler of Hurricane Kitty – Top Chef (everyone’s hat is off to a man that can pound them like Top Chef did still bring home the bacon)
· 2013 Beer Cross Champion and the new Beer Cross Trophy- the mighty Viking Helmet – C-Dubbs (thus proving the correct saying is not “walk softly and carry a big stick” rather “run drunkingly because of a little stick”)

We will leave you with these final shots and videos so that those who did make it can see what their drunken minds could not remember and those that didn’t show can cry over split milk until next year. Stay tuned for a lot of pictures but until then the final “knighting of C-Dubbs”.