The 12th annual Festival of Beers presented by the Active 20-30 Club of Bakersfield was a good-faith chance for all the 20 through 30-year-olds in Bakersfield to participate in their share of civic responsibility, whether they were aware of it or not. The club’s goal for this year was to raise $75,000 to benefit county charities ranging from the Girl Scouts to the Special Olympics.
Aside from event organizers, and volunteer beer pourers, the haze of inebriation clouded all the unknowing philanthropists as they migrated from booth to booth during the May 1 event.
As I sipped from my small tasting cup emblazoned with radio and beer sponsors, I wondered how does an ordinary 21-year-old like me share the ideals of the Active 20-30 Club? Was it by drinking until I passed out? On a day as agonizingly hot as this one, and with every quick shot of beer, this was a realistic goal achievable by even the meekest cider drinkers.
On the Web site, the club outlines its objective. “These clubs share the ideal that young men would have a chance to engage actively in service to their communities; where young ideas, backed by enthusiasm and the energy of youth, could share in civic responsibilities on an equal basis with clubs composed of older men.”
I definitely felt that my $30 made a difference. I felt confident as a spry 21-year-old that I could share those resposibilites while drinking some of my favorite beers including Chimay, Sierra Nevada and Lowenbrau to name a few. I was a responsible adult, yet this event removed all responsibility from the drinker. Cingular Wireless was present to call cab rides home for all the potential DUIs. Between the hordes of shirtless Oildale roiders gathered near the Budweiser booth, the lonely jaded hippies danced to the reggae sounds of Bakersfield staple Mento Buru.
Of all the people I asked, no one seemed to mind the lack of entertainment. They all just wished it wasn’t so hot. And with people getting drunk so fast, they started leaving after their food coupons were gone and within an hour some of the more popular booths were bone dry. If anybody realized they were tricked into giving to a charity, I doubt they would have minded.
I sensed a frustration among the crowd. They were drunk and they were hot, but for some reason, not miserable. From the way I saw it, most of the girls were looking for fun, maybe even a date. And between downing shots of beer, I could see the instincts of the men, grouped in packs, were not the same. Whatever social scene this encompassed, I, the youngest member, felt left out. Every face seemed to be a John Doe echo of every downtown bar scenester and Rockin’ Rodeo regular. The only similarities I shared was the pursuit of the eternal buzz. Oh, and the true spirit of community giving.