There's something really absurdly funny about finishing your sauerkraut and then hopping into a stretch limo, wondering what to do with the collapsed cardboard of the case of Bud Light. But as we drove through the decidedly European-flavored town of Solvang, some tourist stopped to take multiple pictures of us as we cruised through an intersection. You can't be us, we're rock stars. We even stole a wine glass from Bridlewood. So there!

The part of the evening when I knew there would be trouble was when I reached over for a glass of water, looking good in a tall pint glass with its ice floating on the top. I was looking forward to being refreshed, and I took a big healthy swig, stopped, and looked again at the pint glass.

"This isn't water," I thought to myself. Licking lips, jogging memory. "This is a vodka red bull."