At the staggeringly old age of 30, Tucker Max is a wise man with lessons to share aplenty. He's instructed us in many of them through his entertaining writing, from the foul dangers of butt sex to the fun to be had with a half-time competition at a hockey game. Tucker recounts these and other stories of unparalleled absurdity in his latest New York Times Best-Selling book, I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell. Anyone can learn from his hilarious missteps by picking up the book or checking out his horrifyingly funny website (www.tuckermax.com), but we had the privilege of experiencing Tucker firsthand when we spent the evening with him last Wednesday.
Over dinner, Tucker was friendly and a great conversationalist whose intelligence was obvious, but it was just a typical interview until he deflected a question by putting us on the phone with his mother (who maintains that she "did not raise him to be this way"). Once the drinks were flowing, Tucker began to expose a more contemplative side. He cited Aristotle's Apology, claiming he didn't really know anything until he realized that he didn't know anything. Of course, now that he knows he doesn't know anything, Tucker is the self-proclaimed epitome of wisdom. He relayed a good amount of this hard-earned insight to us throughout our conversation. "Everyone has a destiny," he asserted. "Some people grab the reins and do it." As for his own destiny, Tucker realizes that he has not made things easy for himself. "I threw myself in the deep end... the way I acted," he said. "I had to learn how to sink or swim fast... There were times I didn't think I would make it -- professionally or as a human." But obviously Tucker has persevered, and he claims, "I always knew I wanted to be an empire builder." Dinner with The Man left us reassessing some profound questions, but once we headed to the bar, we met Tucker Max the Legend.
At the Blarney after-party, Tucker was everything you would expect from a man who built his fame on "disregarding social norms"; he exposed girls' breasts in pictures, bought drinks and shots for large groups of people and flirted shamelessly with just about every female within arm's reach. And while it became obvious early on that neither of us would be making a night of it with Mr. Max, that didn't prevent him from hanging out/liquoring us up. What a decent guy. Throughout the night, Tucker was followed by a harem of adoring college chicks, but more interestingly, his 30-something South Philly friends. Usually short 30-year-old men in bars are creepy, but these guys were only there to hang out and have a good time. We even got an invite to South Philly to hang out with Larry, who owns a gun shop and a bar: winning combo. At the bar, we didn't contemplate questions about the meaning of life or destiny, but rather "how do you like your pussy?" which was found emblazoned on a t-shirt. Tucker's response: "Easy." While Tucker didn't live up to his reputation as an asshole, he did display his charms as he wooed a freshman and made a quick departure to the Quad. Wednesday was a night of firsts: our first time hanging out with a cult celebrity, Cathi's first time taking her laptop to a bar, Amy's first Jager bomb (which quickly turned into her second and third) and Tucker's first time driving an RV sober. But if The Legend is good for some cheap thrills and low-brow humor, Tucker Max the Man might actually be as wise as he claims, and we've never had as much fun being edified as we did with him.
