Zach and Max were a few Red Bulls deep by the time they hit the merchandise tent. Well, Max was. Zach was still running on mostly pure adrenaline.
“I’ve had half a Five Hour Energy and that’s it,” he said. “Thirty-five hours awake, I’m rocking and rolling. Did the whole drive myself.”
His body has written a check for a mere two and a half hours of energy, yet his boisterous conversations can be heard across the merchandise tent, and his rapid gesticulations are infectiously energetic.
The drive in question was from Leominster, Massachusetts. A trip that twists through a series of national forests and empty fields, spearing straight through the heart of New York with a brief stretch on the tip of the Atlantic. It required of them six hours, a steadily injected caffeine dosage, and a rather singular purpose.