Thursday, March 18, 2010

Kwak Attack

Last weekend a coworker of Jason's/friend of ours was in town. Of course, we had to show him the very best Belgium has to offer. And that, of course, is the Giant Kwak. Well, not just the Giant Kwak. We did actually show him a bit of the home of the Giant Kwak, known to other people (people nowhere near as fun as us) as Gent.

(If I don't get out of Europe pretty soon, I'm going to have to rename this blog Kwak in a Kwakshell)

(Subtitle: KwakKwakKwak.)

We trained to Gent and I had actually forgotten that they have a pretty amazing train station. In fact, I think it was under construction last time we trained there back in 2008. So we finally got to see it in all its glory. This picture doesn't quite do it justice but just imagine this times a hundred.

For a minute, I thought we'd gotten off at the wrong stop and had ended up in Netherlands. You know those people love a bike.

At lunch we figured we'd better practice for the Giant Kwak that was to come. And as we were in Gent, it had to be a Gentse Tripel.

Before we get down to the real business at hand, let's take a look at Kwak's history on this blog...

First there was KwakKwak in Sweden.

Which birthed the mythical beast, Kwakicorn.

Then our friend Phil took on the Giant Kwak in Gent.

And now, finally, I bring you the moment you have all been longing for.... The Giant KwakKwakKwak. Jason and I were on our third trip to Gent and had yet to go for Kwak gold. The first time, we discovered the pub at the end of a long day of sampling Gent's best adult treats and neither of us were up for a giant beer at that point. Last time, Jason was driving so we thought it best not to chug-a-lug before driving our friends back to Brussels since one thing they mentioned they were not so keen on doing during the trip was to die in a fiery car crash on a foreign motorway.

But this time, we were ready. We took the train. We partook with restraint earlier in the day. We even wore our very best socks. Because, you know...they take your shoe before they give you the Giant Kwak apparatus so you don't run off with it. Chris very helpfully directs your attention to the shoe basket pulleyed up to the ceiling.

Ready, set, Kwak!

Make that ready, set, KwakKwakKwak!

Jason carefully practices the twist technique that Phil perfected. You see, because it gets very narrow in the middle, if you just turn that bad boy up and start going at it, you will with 100% certainty experience the Kwak Backlash, whereupon the beer escapes the narrow bit in the middle and comes rushing at your face (and shirtfront) with such great force that it cannot be stopped. You know, physics or some shit like that... We've watched it happen to someone every single time we've been here.

Just because the boys finished slightly before me, they decided it would great fun to tease me about it. "You drink like a girl!" So I decided to start drinking with my pinkie out to really give them something to talk about.

The ultimate Kwakicorn! (Warning: The ultimate Kwakicorn will kick the asses of both regular Kwakicorn and Champagneicorn.)

KwakKwakKwak go byebyebye...

We figured there was no way Gent was going to get any better than this and made our way back to the train station poste haste. We trained to Leuven to catch a Chiefs hockey game. I tell you this only because we had the nuttiest cab driver of all time taking us to the rink. (Well, other than the one we had in Charleston, SC many many years ago who wasn't wearing any pants but that's a whole other story for another time.)

We got in the car and of course conversation quickly turned to the Chiefs. The driver said something about them being very good and Jason says, "Yeah, they're in the playoffs." The driver goes "You are players?!?! Oh, I go quickly!" Ahh, no. PlayOFFS. Not playERS. Easy there Speed Racer.

During the ten minute ride we learned that he lived with a Romanian woman for eighteen years, that he speaks six languages (one of which is of course Romanian, wink wink), he told us some story about "soldiers of love" which none of us could actually figure out and tried to tell us more than once that he'd drive us all the way back to Brussels after the game for a good deal. The good deal being something like 55 euros. Perhaps thats a good deal if you haven't already paid 5 euros for a train ticket and you've never heard of trains and you think that a taxi is the only way to get from Leuven to Brussels.

So to sum up: Giant Kwak, a wacky cab driver and an overtime win for the Chiefs. What more can a girl ask for? You'll see...


Alice said...

Good. God.

I'm impressed.

Beth N said...

Kwak kwak: