Budweiser tales

I bought a six-pack of Bud yesterday, because, why not. Here are two stories:

1. My grandparents raised me in Taiwan in the late 1970s/early 1980s. They did not drink. But they did keep cans of Bud in the spare room where they had a shrine for (and the ashes of) my great-grandfather.* On special occasions, they would open ONE can, at room temperature, and drink it. My grandmother would take a few sips and burp.

2. My friend was in the army and took a boat to Vietnam. On the boat were over 1,000 GIs. They shipped out from Oakland. Somewhere in the Pacific, a passenger died of a heart attack. They had to make an unscheduled stop in the Philippines to dispose of the body. So they unloaded all of the soldiers and kept them on a baseball field like zoo animals. Each GI was given one hot dog and one can of Bud. Horse trading and fist fights ensued.

*That story is very Cold War and nationalistic. They all fled to Taiwan after the civil war. My great-grandfather's dying wish was to be buried in his homeland of China once the Communist dogs were defeated. His ashes are still in Taiwan.