Wild Turkey (Austin Nicholls Distilling Company - Lawrenceburg, KY)

Wild Turkey is the inevitable cause of blackouts and headaches when it comes to the college party.

Our fondest recollection (or lack thereof) of the Wild Turkey stems from a birthday party we threw for ourselves back in 2004. We’ll recount the tale for you here:

So, we’d just turned 22 and were enjoying the bountiful pleasures of a party thrown in our honor. It was just us, and a few of our closest friends. Our Russian Princess, our festively stoned roommates, our work buddies and our lifelong loves were all in full effect. Some surprise guests graced us with their presence, as well.

Sippin on some Molson and runnin’ the house beer pong table was the name of the game. The basement was crisp with joy and jubilation. We were flooring ourselves with good humor and good times.

And then one of our buddies busts out the Wild Turkey. Oh, sweet God, no.

That brutal bourbon was introduced to us that night in the most celebratory of ways. We did shots starting at 10p.m. and pretty much every half hour thereafter. Now, we were flying off the rails. Here’s a vague recount of what happened after that:

Pretty sure we bought a truckload of ritalin off our roommate ... pretty sure we made out with multiple women ... pretty sure we knocked over the beer pong table ... pretty sure we began yelling the lyrics to Warren G’s “Regulate” for no apparent reason ... pretty sure we went up into our bedroom for a while, did we take a nap? Did we sleep with someone? Nobody is for certain ...

By the time we came to ... it was 10 a.m. the next morning. Our head felt like someone’d dropped a truckload of Kirstie Alley after an Ice Cream binge upon it. We were dizzier than a virgin after someone popped her cherry Viagra-style. Who’s house is this?

Note to self: mild psychedelics, happy pills, beer and bourbon DO NOT MIX.

What did any of this have to do with Thanksgiving? What’s that you say? Nothing?

Dude ... it’s Wild Turkey. What’s more appropriate of a beverage for Turkey-day than a drink with turkey in the name?

By the way, it tastes like fire water laced with razor blades. We reckon this bourbon is the precise reason why the Indians were duped into giving up all their land so that the white man could drill oil, pave roads and put up Wal-Marts and Starbucks on every street corner between Boston and San Diego.

So nice of us, after they cooked us that first delicious meal in 1620.

Happy Thanksgiving, mortals.

Rating: 1.5 pints