IPA Day: A completely made-up history for a Fake Holiday
Hoppy IPA Day, y'all. Today, August 7th, is the completely fictional, yet still completely awesome holiday IPA Day. In honor of such a day, we have dug through millions of documents to find the history of such a prestigious day (read: we read nothing, we're making it up as we go along.)
So sit back, crack your favorite IPA until we release Beach Hippy IPA to the masses, and enjoy.
IPA Day: The History
The year was 1876. Nothing super important had happened to the British in nearly a century and they were bored. Utterly bored. Bloody bored, some would say. Then one day, a British colonel got an idea.
"Let's, you know, enslave some more people," he told his fellow Gentleman's Club friends.
"Bully!" they cried. And so, with beer in hand and blindfold across their eyes, they through darts at a globe. The first dart to not strike a club member landed on the as-yet mysterious land India.
They looked around and agreed, India it would be. They raised their glasses.
"Bully!" they cried.
The colonel, accompanied by a fleet of the Queen's finest, set off the next day. (They packed light.) Somewhere more than four days and less than four months into the journey, the Colonel got thirsty. Super thirsty. The rum they had taken from the Caribbean was gone and the colonel was angry. Water was not an option. The only thing left was beer. This wasn't so bad an idea, the colonel thought, and he went down below to have himself a tipple.
Opening the bung, he poured two out. One was for his homies, some of whom they'd had to throw overboard what with scurvy ravaging the crew and all. The colonel brought the beer to his lips and promptly spit it out. It had, evidently, spoiled.
"Bully," he cried, this time not meaning it in some confusing way to mean oh happy day, this is a weird way to exclaim something, but more like Bloody hell, what in so and so's name happened to this once potent potable?
Beyond upset at this point, the colonel dragged the barrels up to the poop deck. He then unceremoniously shoved them off, somewhere near Madagascar. This was the little know, yet still important event the Boston Beer Party. Boston was the name of the colonel's parrot.
By the time they'd made it to India, the colonel had managed to annoy everyone on board because he hadn't had a drink in weeks. They left him in India shortly thereafter. He resolved, when he made the trip back to jolly old England and then back here, he'd do it better. He'd fix the beer. By George, he'd fix the beer. And he did. Oh, he did. The day that he finally made it back to India after making it back to England he named IPA day, for the beer that got him there without alienating his entire crew.
And the rest, they say, is history. Or fiction. Take your pick.
Either way, we hop (yes, hop) you're having a happy IPA day.