With football having arrived, so have the nerves. No, not the nervousness over how your team will fare this season, but, rather, the fear over what you'll drink while tailgating. Yes, football tailgates are bastions of watery beer and rotgut booze. What's a craft beer and artisanal spirits lover to do? Sure, you could not be a snob and simply suck it up as you suck down a few skunky Heinekens. You'd do better to convince your friends why a quality alcohol tailgate is superior.

You'll piss less

I've drunk dirty beer-pong Solos of Milwaukee's Best in college basements, pickleback shots while surrounded by hipsters at ironic dive bars, and teeny bottles of Crown Royal squeezed into the middle seat of a cross country red-eye. But of all the unglamorous places to consume alcohol, a stadium parking lot tops the list. Even worse than paying a Vegas nightclub-level cover charge for the honor of depositing your vehicle amongst a sea of RVs and face-painted fat guys constantly yelling "J-E-..." is the lack of any bathroom facility in sight. Worrisome because if you're drinking — check that: killing — can after can of Bud Light, your body's renal system will be working faster than an expired Brita filter. Your only options? An empty Gatorade bottle or a visit to the portable toilets via a Lawrence of Arabia-trek across the lot. (Speaking of, port-o-lets always have great brand names: Plop Jon, Johnny on the Spot, and Doodie Calls are my favorites.) That's why it's crucial to skip the watery swill and tipple something that'll stay inside you. You won't see that gent sipping Laphroaig 18 lament how he wishes he hadn't "broken the seal" as he heads to "UrinBizness" for the twenty-fifth time.

No bloat

Ben Franklin is erroneously credited as saying, "Beer is proof God loves us and wants us to be happy." Alcoholic atheists might unerroneously add he must not unconditionally love us, because the man above still sticks drinkers with not only the frequent need to urinate, but also that massive belly bloat unique to cheap beer. Yes, the "fizzy yellow stuff" is usually so cold and overcarbonated you couldn't possibly taste how bad it is. But you can certainly feel it — and each additional can your buddy slings your way feels like he is trying to eventually cause foie gras to explode from your navel. It's almost ironic that the kind of "dark" craft beers the masses label too "heavy" to marathon drink actually sit much better in your stomach. IPAs, barleywines, and even stouts are far less carbonated than anything that comes with a twist-off cap. OK, so you can't polish off a dozen Sierra Nevada Celebrations, shotgun a can of Oskar Blues Ten FIDY, nor even do a kegstand on a Bell's Oberon mini-keg, but you also won't feel like a blown-up whoopie cushion come kick-off. You do want to enter the stadium with enough room to still shove a few footlongs into your face, right?

You can (actually) support the home team

I'm not sure there's anyone left in this country who actually says "'Murica" unironically, but if there is, these are surely the same folks who proudly buy American, drink American, and get hoppin' mad when any person of vague ethnicity sings "our" national anthem. The problem is, these good ol' American products these good ol' boys love to drank have predominantly come to be owned by foreign multinationals. George Dickel Tennessee whiskey? In the London-based Diageo portfolio. Miller and Coors? Partially owned by, ahem, Canadians. Budweiser? A Belgian corporation fronted by a vaguely ethnic Brazilian (shh...don't tell Bubba.) Nowadays, the way to assure you're drinking jingoistically is to search out those extremely local nanobrews your hick uncle calls you a gay slur for sipping. But that's the beauty of craft products (no, not the misplaced homophobia) — there's always one nearby, and thus you can always feel you're doing your part to support your city. So if you're a Pats fan, grab some Jack's Abby for gameday. A 'Skins supporter and pound cans of DC Brau. A Brown fan and...well, maybe you should just stay home to drink those bottles of Great Lakes Edmund Fitzgerald.

Craft companies are getting into the action

Much like White Castle serves its burgers in a cardboard attache case, the big boy breweries also like to make their crummy beers highly transportable and seemingly perfect for tailgates. High Life is sold in 12-pack coolers, Coronas now comes in 24-ounce cans, and a team of mangy horses will deliver your beer if you're so inclined to drink Budweiser. While the assembly-line breweries focus on the ability to move mass quantities of their beers from place to place, the littler guys are actually making products you want to drink once you get to that place. Redhook out of Washington (to be fair, owned by the larger Craft Brew Alliance) has teamed with Dan Patrick to make Audible Ale, the ultimate "crushable craft" for tailgating. There's a TailGate brewery — a trademarked name Anheuser Busch once tried to contest on the grounds that only they made "the official beer of tailgating" (thankfully, they lost) — focused on making highly-sessionable canned offerings. Finally, for liquor lovers, Jim Beam is encouraging tailgaters to not only tipple their small-batch 130-proof Bookers bourbon while sitting in a branded NFL pop-up chair, but has teamed with chef Michael Symon to create tailgating treats you can make with its product (most notable, a Knob Creek-poached bratwurst).

Your beer is safe

If you've seen that scene in Silver Linings Playbook where Bradley Cooper portrays the most handsome guy to ever attend an Eagles game, you know tailgating bring out the worst in people. Gorging on processed-foods, starting fights, and hollering at the rare females in attendance to show off their mammaries. And, after a few hours of revelry, drunken people are usually lost and wandering the trashed-out lot, looking for any Lays (or lays) and bobbing their meaty paws into random coolers trying to filch some brews. This could be a big deal if you came with a 30-rack of Silver Bullets. But, I can tell you, you have no need to worry if you bring the good stuff, as other revelers have no interest in stealing "weird" beer. At a recent college tailgate, I came with cans of Westbrook Gose, bombers of Stone's Coconut IPA, corked-and-caged Allagash sours, and even growlers of Tired Hands saisons. Not only did no one want these beers — including a group of teenage misfits willing to swipe anything with ethanol — but most folks were downright scared of the growlers.

You'll get drunker

Finally, any time I bring fine beer and top-shelf liquor to tailgates, even buddies I'm used to seeing with tulips of Belgian ale in their hands turn me down. "I can't drink those all day — I'll get wasted," they say as they return to sipping whatever swill their branded koozie is obscuring. Like getting wasted is a bad thing? There's a good chance your terrible team is going lose anyway — so why not get efficiently drunk before the game so you can ensure a good time during it? That ain't going to occur with 4.2% "lite" beers unless you go Joey Chestnut on them. So drink the good stuff. It might just be the most memorable part of gameday.

Aaron Goldfarb (@aarongoldfarb) is the author of and .

Aaron Goldfarb Aaron Goldfarb lives in Brooklyn and is a novelist and the author of 'Hacking Whiskey.'

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