151: leader of the alcoholic pack
By John Shim
Nov. 6, 2002 9:00 p.m.
In every realm of nature there have always been struggles for
the throne of bad-assed-ness.
Whether it’s alpha males competitively vying for female
attention, rivers and mountains struggling for ultimate geologic
supremacy or me haranguing my editors to get profanities included
in my columns, nature’s dictate has always created a power
struggle.
In this vein, I’d like to pay homage to the tyrannical
titan of alcoholic beverages: Bacardi 151. Everything about
this drink is no joke.
First of all, 151 is undeniably a badass number. The number
rolls off the tongue so well in so many different ways. My
personal favorite is “one-five-one” although most are
partial to the more commonplace “one-fifty-one.”
Indeed under the auspices of heavy inebriation, I’ve gone
so far as to call it “Beluga” and, on one particularly
brazen occasion, “Griselda,” a namesake of my fiery
ex-girlfriend.
But all trivialities aside, there are many reasons I hold such
esteem for this particular brand of alcohol.
The most obvious is that this rum has an alcoholic content of
roughly 75 percent. The label specifically states it is highly
flammable, and on top of the bottle lies a funnel conveniently
shattering all would-be delusions of taking shots of this potent
liquid from the bottle.
Of course, this is not to say that many have not looked into the
fiery depths of 151 and consumed it in the enveloping yield of a
shot glass. But it’s like one of those asinine
“Do Not Remove” labels that adorn comforters and
blankets: the more one sees the message of negation, the more one
yearns to defy its decree.
Mixed or taken straight, Bacardi 151 has brought about
slackening of inhibitions, dulled senses and in general, good times
since its inception in the alcoholic arena.
I recall one instance where my four friends and I finished a
bottle of 151. Forgoing more modern incarnations of video game
entertainment, we broke out an O.G. Nintendo replete with a Track
and Field pad and promptly began to stomp furiously on the spots to
simulate actual running.
In the course of that drunken night, my friend, a 280-pound
behemoth, broke a previous 100-meter world record of 9.8 seconds by
four ticks of the second hand. Needless to say, the 151 set the
mood of jubilation for the unbelievable race he had won.
My friend’s time, physique and glory as world 100-meter
champion were merely an alcohol-induced fantasy. But how
badass is a drink that can turn this humble man into an Olympic
god?
Indeed, many claimants to the throne of alcoholic supremacy
maintain any alcohol could induce these effects just as well as
151. Although these other liquors may have a claim (a dubious
one) to the throne 151 regally possesses, none have the right mix
of attributes that keep Bacardi in its monarchial position.
Beer? Unnecessary calories.
Midori liqueur? Many dislike sugary tastes when it comes to
alcoholic drinks.
XO Cognac? You have to drop the Gross National Product of
small island countries for a bottle of that rotgut.
Bacardi 151? At eighteen dollars a bottle, with a name that
reeks of style and sporting a triple digit proof? This choice
is reminiscent of the excellent Jagged Edge song, “Where
the party at?” An appropriate answer would be:
“Where the Bacardi’s at.”
Many will no doubt decry me as an idiot or, judging from my hate
mail, much worse, for writing such an esoteric homage on rum.
Yet, faith without works is dead. At least try
151. Drink it with Coke to add kick to an otherwise boring
cocktail. If you’re feeling especially saucy, garnish
your drink with a cherry bomb, a maraschino cherry soaked in 151.
Throw down a shot and receive the warm embrace ““ preceded by
initial throat searing ““ of 151-induced bliss.
Whether swayed or unmoved by my anecdotes, statistics and
theories, I hope you have the courage to accept Bacardi 151 as the
reigning badass of alcoholic drinks.
