I'll start:

I grew up in eastern Montana and started drinking at age 16. We used to go out into the country and have small parties. One of my favorite drinking places in mid-winter was at an oil well. The pumps looked like grasshoppers and went up and down pumping the oil out and there was a permanent light because they burned off the natural gas which lit up the are and made it sort of like a bonfire. The pumping mechanism had a huge counter-weight that spun around looking like mushroom. The weight cleared the concrete pad just slightly more than fist-high. After drinking a bit of beer, we would dare each other to hold an empty beer bottle on the pad until the weight swung around and broke it. It took me about 4 beers to get up the courage the first time - the shattered glass cut my hand up pretty bad but my drinking cred hit an alltime high.