What Happens If You Drink Four Four Lokos and Five Five Hour Energies?

I’ve always considered Hunter S. Thompson to be a personal hero of mine. Each page he churned out on his trusty IBM Selectric typewriter served as a road map, not unlike Route 66, that prepared the reader for a drug-fueled opus that could, and would claim the faint of heart. His work pulled no punches, and exposed the world to substances and sub-humans so vile, that readers, past and present, contemplated discarding it after page one. But that was Hunter Thompson. He loved to be hated. He experienced things so that you’d never have to.

I’m not Hunter Thompson. Nor, could I ever expect to be. But I am a person who is fascinated with putting myself into the story. There’s choose your own adventure and there is make your own adventure. The latter lends itself to a certain narcissistic approach to putting pen to paper.

During Thompson’s exploration of the Mint 400 Motorcyle race of ’71, he (as Raoul Duke) is said to have consumed 2 bags of weed, 75 pellets of mescaline, 5 sheets of high-powered blotter acid, a salt shaker half full of cocaine and a hodgepodge of other substances that could combine to kill off an entire petting zoo.

But I’m a pussy.

A big pussy.

Rather than roll through the tetanus cesspool known as Skid Row in Los Angeles looking for the goods, I thought to myself, “what about a modern day, and legal exploration of substances?”

Yeah. That’s what I’d do!

‘Cause I’m a pussy.

There are two substances used quite frequently amongst the 18-34 demographic: Five Hour Energy and Four Loko. While the jury is still out as to the harmful effects of the liquid energy, states have already begun sounding off when it comes to the fruit-packed blackout in a can. As of this read, Four Loko was banned in New York, Michigan, Utah and Oklahoma.

Here are the dirty details. One, Four Loko contains 12 percent alcohol, about the same as drinking four beers. Five Hour Energy claims to contain 60-100mg of caffeine, about the same as a cup of coffee that would put pubic hair on your chest. So if my math holds correct, I’d be downing 16 beers and 5 cups of coffee over a six-hour period (7:00-1:00 PST).

I was gonna get blotto!

Obviously there were risks involved, so I decided to contact a friend on Facebook who was a certified doctor. I asked her plainly, [REDACTED], I’m thinking about trying to drink five Five Hour Energies and four Four Lokos, what are the potential risks? Here is her response:

“Well, I hope you’re not serious. But if you really want to know, there’s acute alcohol poisoning. Your vital organs will shut down…but your colon will be working just fine. You’ll probably start shitting…like a lot. And if you feel like you’re going to puke, make sure you’re not lying down. Oh, and I know how you tend to hang out with “less than savory girls,” so they’re probably going to rob you for all of your valuables while you’re lying in a pile of puke, shit and piss (but that’s me as a friend talking, not a doctor).

Seriously, though. Make sure there’s someone around in case you really do start to die. That would make me sad. But I’ll be sure to send out a Facebook invitation to your funeral, although I think people would rather get A.I.D.S. then those things. Happy experimenting.

[Redacted]

As I readied myself for the challenge, I figured I’d turn to someone who had to have some advice. She did.

Thanks, LiLo. It’s so on.

The following is a true account of exactly how I was feeling at the time (with minor corrections to spelling as I reached the blackout crescendo). I decided to try to complete a “simple” cognizance test after every finished pair of beverages, along with the aforementioned descriptions. I’ll share the results of those as we go along. Bottoms up…

9/3/11 6:45 P.M.

I’m feeling pretty nervous. I picked up the supplies from my local bodega. The shopkeeper didn’t seem too concerned with my purchase. That’s probably because he’s into some heavy shit; namely a real life fight club in the liquor store’s basement. Here’s the cognizance test I had my roommate draw up for me.

Questions

1. 612 – 11 + 2 – 3 / 2 + 33 =
2. Tits or ass?
3. Finish this sentence: I Got 99 Problems But…
4. Kiss, Kill, Marry: Meg Ryan, Jack Nicholson, Kreayshawn
5. Quote from Blues Brothers.

Answers

1. 333
2. Scarlett Johansson’s milky pillows. I always misspell Johansson, even as I’m stone cold sober. I always have the urge to make every letter double, probably because of those DD’s hanging from her chest like Christmas ornaments.
3. A bitch ain’t one.
4. Jack Nicholson now, or 1974?
5. “It’s 106 miles to Chicago. We got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it’s dark and we’re wearing sunglasses!………………..HIT IT!!

7:00 P.M.

Cracking open the tab on the first Fruit Punch-flavored Four Loko. The sound delivers a warning reminiscent of a rattlesnake. As for the taste, it’s kinda like a mixture of counterfeit Kool-Aid, Dave Chappelle purple stuff and smelly markers.

7:05 P.M.

¼ way through the first can. I can’t really feel anything. Perhaps I’m a Four Loko nihilist. I believe in nothing!

7:17 P.M.

I’m starting to feel something. It’s like the onset of puberty; you know something magical is on the horizon. That begs the question: is testosterone one of the ingredients in here?

7:18 P.M.

No.

7:28 P.M.

Alcohol certainly numbs the pain. I’ve had a chronic masturbatory shoulder injury for seemingly forever that seems to have suddenly gone out of style like throwback jersey’s. I always thought it was funny to see thug ass dudes walking around with a Danny Schayes jersey on. It’s like the Italian “that’s they one” scene from Coming to America…except for Jewish People.

7:31 P.M.

I just made this Fruit Punch Four Loko my bitch! This is what it must feel like to serve prison time in OZ. On to the caffeine. I’m actually more worried about this than the alcohol portion. In my system, booze seems to be the kid in detention whose been there and done that. Conversely, caffeine is the kid who he thinks he has a career in the ACLU who is looking to make himself into a martyr. Make way for the energy!

7:37 P.M.

This Five Hour Energy stuff is definitely what they use to incite the animals on the Real World Vs. Road Rules Challenge. Jesus, I think Bunim and Murray may have actually created this stuff.

7:38 P.M.

They didn’t.

7:39 P.M.

How come you’re supposed to contact a physician if you have an erection lasting for five hours, yet five hours worth of energy is totally okay? Is this like the chicken and the egg thing? If you gave a guy enough Marvin Gaye CD’s and Five Hour Energies he could definitely produce children for all of those women out there whose wombs are polluted.

7:42 P.M.

One Five Hour Energy down the gullet. This seems like a safe and smart place to stop, but I’m going to press on. Why? Because if TLC has taught me anything, it’s that immortality and strength lies in numbers. I must consume these beverages like Kate Gosselin and OctoMom farth (fart+birth) babies from their sinkholes.

Questions

1. 612 – 11 + 2 – 3 / 2 + 33 =
2. Tits or ass?
3. Finish this sentence: I Got 99 Problems But…
4. Kiss, Kill, Marry: Meg Ryan, Jack Nicholson, Kreashawn
5. Quote from Blues Brothers.

Answers

1. 333
2. Where? No, seriously.
3. I hope I have some toilet paper.
4. Jack Nicholson now, or 1974?
5. “Our Lady of Blessed Acceleration, don’t fail me now.”

7:47 P.M.

I’ve chosen a green apple xxx limited edition as my instrument of destruction. The bottle is certainly a cheery camouflage color and very reminiscent of a paintball game taking place during a Gay Pride parade. As for the taste…it’s kinda like Now and Laters.

7:53 P.M.

My roommate just got home. He described the smell in the house as “the inside of a mascot’s head on a 100 degree day.” I’m powering through this green apple one faster than the first. If I were starring in a Quentin Tarantino movie, this would be the part where I’d spent an inordinate amount of time staring at Uma Thurman’s feet.

8:15 P.M.

This shit is gross. I’m becoming eerily suspicious that urinal cakes are melted down to create the tepid bathwater that is Four Loko. One more sip….and I’m done with two. Good golly I’m feeling drunk. If I were in a club right now, everyone would be looking at me how everyone looked at Marty McFly (Calvin Klein) when he introduced them to rock and roll music.

8:17 P.M.

Taking a piss.

8:20 P.M.

Still taking a piss. The stream is as impressive as the one the Ghostbuster’s pump out.

8:22 P.M.

Time for some more energy! Hooray! There’s definitely a Hatfield/McCoy ruckus brewing in my stomach. Was the doc (tor, not Doc Brown), right? Is this going to end with me seeking out adult diapers?

8:30 P.M.

My heart is doing the guitar portion of Norman Greenbaum’s Spirit in the Sky.

9:00 P.M.

It took me a while, but I managed to get the second Five Hour Energy down. Status update: I feel like I want to go to sleep but my eyeballs are intent on starting a riot.

Questions:

1. 612 – 11 + 2 – 3 / 2 + 33 =
2. Tits or ass?
3. Finish this sentence: I Got 99 Problems But…
4. Kiss, Kill, Marry: Meg Ryan, Jack Nicholson, Kreayshawn
5. Quote from Blues Brothers.

Answers:

1. Fuck you.
2. Fuck you both.
3. This one is the fuckin’ worst.
4. Fuck Fuck Fuck
5. “I’m on a fucking mission from God”

9:37 P.M.

I think this Four Loko is cherry flavored because my lips and teeth are all red. Or I might be bleeding.

10:02 P.M.

Every sip of this drink is like being on the business end of a Super Soaker filled with that white stuff you get in the corner of your mouth when you’re dehydrated. I don’t think I can finish this.

10:49 P.M.

I finished it. Somehow. If this were the cure for Polio, I’d pour it down the toilet.

11:16 P.M.

Too many Five Hour Energies don’t make Jack a dull boy. They make Jack want to put a hole in the wall to see if his crappy apartment has one of the load bearing joints in the building. Also…

I am Jack’s complete lack of surprise.

11:45 P.M.

I opened the last Four Loko and took a sip. I’m not going to do this anymore. The booze beat the energy. Here is the best explanation of how I’m doing.

That’s as close as I’d come to my goal. All in all, I managed to drink three Four Lokos (and took a sip of the 4th), and three Five Hour Energies. The next day I felt like the waffle shaped grooves on the bottom of a sneaker after stepping in dog shit.

“I felt like a monster reincarnation of Horatio Alger: A man on the move, and just sick enough to be totally confident.”