After pressing the “walk” button at the corner of Highway 97 and Spall I stepped back from the traffic for two reasons. First, to avoid getting clotheslined by an extended side-mirror on some Florida retiree’s insanely huge motor coach and second, so I could take in the surprisingly wave-like flow of Kelowna highway traffic in the summer. With so much variety moving through so fast you just never know when something interesting might happen on by.

And then all of a sudden it roared past, leaving in its wake the most vivid transfer of image, desire and incontrovertible proof that here on earth there was an Eden and that it was possible for mere mortals to visit it this side of the happily-ever-after.

It was the Budweiser Big Rig.

What is the Bud Big Rig you ask? Well, according to Budweiser, it’s a big semi-trailer and tractor kitted out “with built in BBQ’s, live music, a killer sound system and 200 cases of ice cold Bud...(meaning)...this is a party you don’t want to miss.” You can’t even find pictures of it that don’t look like fun (as evidenced by the picture accompanying this column).

The weird thing was that even standing on the street corner I knew instinctively that that was what the Big Rig was all about – and not because I’d ever heard of it before, but because the image of beer, Budweiser and partying in general is so totally ingrained in my male psyche that it may have even taken over the brain-spots normally reserved for the performance of charitable works and eating with utensils (yes, I have a problem or two).

I swear it was all I could do to not jump into traffic, commandeer a car and demand the driver “follow that truck.” That I would have had to spend the next ten minutes convincing my carjacked chauffeur that it really was a good idea for both of us to find out where the party was headed never entered my mind (though I would hope that the possibility of a lawsuit, summary conviction and the medium to high likelihood of potential jail house sodomy might ring an alarm bell or two).

As my gaze remained stuck to the back of the rapidly disappearing adventure-on-wheels, I finally wrestled my head back to center and tried to re-focus my attention. Instantly, a second big rig flew by towing a trailer marked “Bud Camp” which (in my head) could only mean even more of the same. So now the party quickly getting away was at least twice as big as I thought it was originally and probably even more cool. I sighed, bowed my head and continued over to the Chevron to purchase the hot pocket I had intended to spend my lunch hour with even as the thoughts of super hot girls, crazy awesome music and the best house party on eighteen wheels ever rolled by forever and out of my life.

It is almost unbelievable to think that just the sight of such a truck can trigger so many specific visions and thoughts inside any male head let alone my own fevered version. I know Bud spends millions every year putting these thoughts into heads around North America but to witness so specifically the toggle-switched activation of them is really quite something. I am almost sure that if I did not have such a stupendous wife (she reads these columns) and kids at home I would probably be calling my buddies and figuring out the best way to track down the “Big Rig” in time to join in, whether it was headed for West Texas or further.

Would the party even be that much fun? Are they ever? Yes, there are amazing super hotties all over the place that every guy thinks he actually has a shot at (you don’t – they get $20 bucks an hour and usually have to sign contracts about not doing anything even remotely close to what you want them to do). Yes, the beer is chilled and the grill is hot, but the exercise is really one large attempt to sell beer. It’s only as fun as such a thing can be. And truthfully becoming droolingly drunk is about all you can do to assist in prolonging the promise of such an event.

I know I’m sounding like a downer on this. I’m not really. Actually, I appreciate the image, and world, that beer companies in general try to provide for us. It’s a simple place where the girls are pretty, the beverages are plentiful and the biggest problem you’ll ever face is which baseline pleasure you want first. (Beef, Booze or Babes?)

But for now I guess I’ll have to be content with watching the party bus speed past and learning to enjoy the mental images it touches off as it passes. Living inside a beer commercial is a dream only guys like Ashton Kutcher or maybe William Shatner (once upon a time) get to experience but for Budweiser to give the rest of us even a weekend chance at such a life is pretty cool. I think that partying with the “Bud Big Rig” would be a hell of a lotta fun for anybody, whether they are willing to admit it or not.

Next time I’ll remember to stick my thumb out.

SPECIAL NOTE: In the past I have gone on at length about Costco and what a super-cool, amazing chain they are. I raved on and on about their service, their concept, and their diamond in the crown, best in the business return policy. Well this week I had to put that return policy to the test and I was shocked. I admit freely that my requested return was a tough one, a real long shot (I did have the receipt though) but I was still stunned by the outcome. Not only did they take the item back with no hassles whatsoever but I was treated with a courtesy and a respect that was almost reverential. My sincere thanks go out to the entire Costco store in general and Manager Mike Gazso in particular. Call me a sucky kiss up but I was totally blown away by the way I was treated and I had to say so. So don’t shuffle, walk or meander – go stuff your pockets with cash and run full tilt as fast as you can to Costco and buy every single thing in sight. For me there is officially no better or safer place to buy ANYTHING!
-AdFool