When we were 18 or so, my buddy Mike and I stumbled onto a bit of fried gold: instead of hosting our own parties — inevitably money-losing affairs with the risk of parental seizure — we'd host parties for others. Our deal was simple: give us a hundred dollars or so, plus any available primary mixing liquor one had; we'd add the donated liquor (inevitably cheap scotch) to our library of mixers in our mobile bar, use the cash to shore up any key items like ice or limes, then spend the night adding a touch of class to your out-of-town uncle's basement.
We'd stay relatively sober, shepherd the young drinkers through the perils of a drunken teen party by keeping things happy but not ridiculous, and even pick up the worst of the damage before we left in the morning. We got to be the locus of fun for the evening, make a little cash, and restock our mobile bar — the customer got to have a stress-free, kick-ass party. I would totally recommend this business model to any of our teenage readers except it's totally illegal. But it made for a fun summer.
Our mobile bar — inexplicably called the "Fun Bus", despite being just a particle board cabinet with casters screwed on the bottom and a hasp for a padlock on the doors — couldn't hold a candle to the "Evolution Mobile Bar" from KegWorks, although to be fair for the $1,900 purchase price we could have funded a whole month of parties from our little wooden box. But I can't help but daydream a little of rolling the folded aluminum case into a client's house, perhaps wearing the white tuxedos we never got around to wearing, and whipping the Evolution out to be filled with garnishes, stemware and a mixing jugs.
For $1,900, though, someone even as klutzy in the workshop as I am could probably make something bigger that could support a proper keg or two. It's odd that a company named "KegWorks" didn't have the same idea.