Back in good ol’ high school days, some number of us were riding around one night drinking beer when we passed a house that was obviously having a party, to judge by the number of cars outside. We spied the VW bus of an individual we all despised and went into attack posture: lights cut, ease to the curb up the block, dispatch a scout. “It’s unlocked,” he said upon his return. What to do? We drove around for another ten minutes or so, shaking up a beer all the while. Back to the scene, dispatch a sapper to place the beer in the bus. As we were used to covert operations, mum was the word all weekend. Monday morning at school reveals that a good friend had been given a ride to the party by Despised Guy. Friend says Despised Guy sees the beer sitting there oh-so-innocently and pops it even before putting the key in the ignition. Friend was only partially in the bus and was spared a lot of the wetting. Not so Despised Guy and his father’s VW. Friend said Despised Guy spent much of the weekend trying to get the smell out to his father’s satisfaction but wasn’t successful. Chuckle.