03/16/2025
For those who have been following Kyleโs story, yesterday was the celebration of his life.
The arena was packedโcowboy hats tipped low, solemn gazes filling every corner. The real challenge for each speaker? Tryingโand mostly failingโto keep the stories about Kyle PG. Standing room only which was not at all surprising.
When the time came, after the celebration of life, they did exactly what Kyle would have wanted by taking the party to High Tide.
Now, listen.
I was born into this industry. Iโve slung drinks, worked the crowds, and even claimed a few beer-chugging titles back in my prime. But I have neverโneverโseen anything like this.
What I witnessed has left me questioning the limits of human physiology. Kyleโs cowboys drained that fridge like it was their lifeโs purposeโand then just kept going, laughing, telling stories, carrying on like their bodies werenโt 90% beer at that point.
Coors Light? Gone. Michelob Ultra? A distant memory. But did they falter? Not even for a second. Miller Lite? Sure. IPA? Fine. A White Claw? Look, desperate times, my friends. Desperate times. I wonโt name names, but some of yโall made choices last night and I saw what I saw.
And yet, despite the wall-to-wall crowd and the sheer volume of drinks consumeded, there was nothing but grace, patience, and yes maโams.
They told stories. They laughed. They filled the space with something bigger than any of us could name. And no, it wasnโt just about drinkingโit was about remembering. About making sure that Kyleโs presence was as real and tangible as the arms slung around shoulders and the glasses raised high.
At the start of the night, they brought Kyleโs remains inside and set him right there among us. And of course, they made sure he had a beer.
I know he was watching, grinning at the chaos, knowing it unfolded exactly as it should. Because last night, all the parts of his worldโcowboys, a few hippies, family, coworkers, and old friendsโcollided under one roof. People who might never have met, were bound together by the kind of bridge only Kyle could build.
It made me think. Some men leave holes when they go. The good ones? They leave spaces that never stay emptyโbecause theyโre filled with the unshakable bond of those lucky enough to have known them.
So to Kyleโs friends and family, and especially his beautiful wife, Annaโthank you. For reminding us what it looks like to celebrate a life well lived. For turning loss into laughter, grief into connection, and one small bar into something truly sacred.
