We woke up late and bolted out of our friend’s place faster than Twista can finish a verse. We were heading to Loretto, KY to go to the Marker’s Mark Distillery but were going to have to make it fast or else we’d miss the 3:30 tour – the last of the day.
We were nearly across state lines when we realized we hadn’t gotten any Georgia peaches. Luckily there was a random peach stand when we got off to get gas, so we stopped to pick some up. I bought a basket of peaches. I don’t like peaches. So that was a poor choice.
We entered Tennessee and the scenery took another change – this time for the better. It’s a gorgeous area full of rolling hills and green fields and trees. I made and obligatory “You’re the only ten I see” joke to Betz and proceeded to lose cell phone reception and fall asleep for a while.
We were surprised to see that this is the where the city all those jacked dudes in 300 were fighting about.
We didn’t want to get involved in their little fight so we kept going. Soon we entered Kentucky. Kentucky is very much the same as Tennessee except that it’s more north and less God fearing.
We got off the highway pretty early in Kentucky since Loretto is a tiny town in the middle of nowhere. Those are the best types of trips because you get to see the countryside for all it’s worth. Also there are no cops so the rules of the road only apply to annoying law abiding citizens.
As we approached the Maker’s Mark distillery we realized that we hadn’t brushed our teeth that day. Because we were all jacked up on testosterone from passing the Spartans, we chose to do exactly what is pictured below.
We got to Maker’s Mark just in time for the last tour. Our tour guide was a little blonde girl with more attitude than Queen Latifah in Barbershop 2 when she argues with Cedric the Entertainer in his baby pool. She led the tour pretty quickly (she obviously wanted to go home) but it was still a pretty cool tour. We got to see the entire process that Maker’s Mark goes through to become the wonderful drink that it is.
I won’t bore you with the details (mostly because I can’t remember them) but it was a really interesting tour. One downfall though. My beer poop from the night before decided to strike about 10 minutes in. The tour was about an hour long. At first is was a slow, dull pressure, but with each step and each stop it became worse and worse until it felt like little rats were clawing at my bowels. If anyone bumped into me I was going to annihilate my pants.
As we approached the end of the tour all I could think about were the restrooms in the gift shop. They were calling my name and my insides were begging to meet the stall. Finally she explained how the process of creating Maker’s Mark came to completion and I nearly jumped for joy (I didn’t though because, well, you know).
A huge sigh of relief swept over me as we entered the building that contained the gift shop. Then the second to worst thing happened (the worst being public defection) – she made an unexpected turn and we entered the tasting room. Not only were we not done, I had to sit through a tasting of three different types of Maker’s Mark. Normally this would excite me as I’ve only ever had the regular bourbon, but today was different. At this point I was letting out little farts just to relieve myself of some pain. I looked at the seat I had to sit on and prayed to the Lord above that that stool wouldn’t get covered in my stool.
Ten agonizing minutes later, with sweat beading on my forehead and eyebrows, we were done. As I bolted up to leave, the tour guide announced one last “surprise” – we got to try Maker’s Mark bourbon chocolate. Because the only thing I needed less than holding the behemoth inside my bowels longer was food to make it worse.
I could have skipped the chocolate, but who know if I was every going to get the chance to eat it again? So I ate the delicious morsel and took off on a dead sprint to the bathroom. It was the entire way across the gift shop. I think I set my PR for the 100 yard sprint that day.
And it was worth it. The stalls weren’t some grungy, plastic door, stained toilet seat stalls. These stalls had full length wooden doors, relaxed country music, and wonderfully clean facilities. Until I got there at least. The release was similar to the feeling you get when you’re approaching your front door with your hands full of groceries and someone opens it just as you get there combined with catching your friend doing something really embarrassing and keeping it a secret until just the right moment.
After losing 10 pounds I dipped my own bottle of Maker’s Mark into their signature red wax.
And here’s the perfectly dipped bottle.
Ok so I screwed up the wax a bit. Whatever. I had a rough day.
We left the distillery and headed to Cincinnati. Which is the hardest city in the United States to spell correctly on the first try.