Dave came over after a girlfriend-induced 2-hour delay and we planned operation “Is this beer too small” begun in a previous post. The 23 oz glass seemed to barely accommodate much more than a single 12 oz soda and I restrained myself from speed-dialing the Department of Weights and Measures and instead chose guerrilla science.
Dave and I smuggled in measuring equipment and all went well until drink orders. Dave was supposed to get a 23 oz drink for me to measure, but then something went horribly long…
Server: What can I get you to drink?
Me: I’ll have a water.
Dave: I’ll have a Sprite.
Server: Okay, I’ll….
Me: I’ll have a 23 oz black and tan.
Dave: I don’t like black and tans.
Me: I’ll have a lager.
Server: Okay, do you want two glasses?
I no way did we look like tards at this point. Honest. She returned with the drinks and I realized that we were a vessel short. I downed my water and dumped my ice into Dave’s Sprite and hastily pored the lager into the measuring cup creating a ridiculous amount of head. So, at this point, there was a 1/2 empty Brewtus glass, my empty water glass, Dave’s Sprite overflowing with ice, and a very frothy beer in an OXO measuring cup. Time was ticking away for the foam to clear before the server returned and I caught some odd looks from the restaurant inhabitants as I ineffectively blew on the beer. The head cleared, I dumped the beer into my empty vessel and filled the remaining beer into the measuring cup, 24 oz, fuck. Everything gets consolidated back into Dave’s glass as the server returned and offered to refilled my de-beered water glass. I demanded a new glass and got the hairy eyeball, and broke down and explained the situation and she was surprisingly understanding and stated that they did have a smaller 16 oz glass but we’d clearly gotten the 23 oz one. I asked the server if I could buy the glass for further analysis and she asked her manager.
Server: We’re not supposed to sell the glasses.
Me: What happens if someone breaks one?
Server: We sweep it up…
Me: No no, do you charge them?
Server: No, we don’t.
Me: So we can break your glasses?
Server: Well, I guess, but you might get kicked out.
Minutes later she passed by and looked at us, flashed us an open spread hand and mouthed the word “5” to us. We added 5 to the 60% tip and Dave slipped the glass into his hoodie’s main pocket. At home, I pulled out the two glasses. Same damn size. So, did space-time bend or did I get a super can of Pepsi Max that could nearly fill a 23 oz glass. Or, option C, I’m a complete tard.