Greetings from Prague!
I will write all about the Golden City in a post soon to follow but I just thought I'd let you know why this second portion of Oktoberfest took so long. Before I can can even write about one city I'm already in another. Crappy life, huh? I don't think so either. Without much more humble jumble, here's what happened the other times I fested in Oktober.
Lines, lines. Waiting, waiting. No, no. That's what you get outside an Oktoberfest tent if you come too late in the day. I can't help but get the feeling I'm a lonely freshmen who decided to walk around the frat quad, and see from which one I can snatch some alcohol. Except here in Deutschland, the bier isn't free. As I said before and I'll say it again, my wallet has been sore for a while.
On Day 3 (Tuesday night, whaddup!) I took advantage of the half priced rides on family night. For those of you who are questioning why there is a family night at Oktoberfest, a giant bier festival, keep wondering. I have no idea who would bring their kids to such an event where grown adults drink toward a stupor and spend a month's salary in a few hours. But I say, at least they know what to look forward to when they're older. You gotta give kids a chance to dream after all.
Back on the five-ring Olympic roller coaster, Megan and I rode front row, despite being cut off in line by two 10-year-old Germans. Then she convinced me (and herself, because she had no idea what it did either) to ride "Top Spin". Imagine rows of movie theater seats flying through the air and spinning backward and forward in the process. We figured if all the totally-impressionable future-beer-drinking kids could do it, we could, too.
By the time we met up with the rest of the students in my program, one of them had kissed half the people a the table and couldn't really stand up on her on will. She had a good time to be sure, but our friend's vomit-covered dirndl would disagree. Then came disaster after disaster which would haunt me for the next week.
As I stood on the table in a biergarten and went to take a swig of my beer, my friend stood up to go to the restroom. Worse. Timing. Ever. His shoulder bumped my arm and rocketed my glass straight into my teeth. Admittedly, I was already one and half liters in and it didn't hurt too bad. I felt like there was a tiny shard of glass lodged in between my two front teeth. I could deal with that. It was only the next morning I realized that sharp edge was actually my chipped tooth. I like to think of it as my Oktoberfest battle scar. It's really not too outrageous of a story, but everyone I meet from here on out doesn't need to know the truth. They can't handle the truth. So lies, extravagance and debauchery are the only solutions.
But wait, reader! You recall the mention that one disaster followed this one? Well, unfortunately, I like using a lot of commas, and something else did happen, to me.
As four of us squeezed onto a table full of Irishmen, we rejoiced in our luck and the insane atmosphere. Fest music, screams, chants and beer filled the air. The air.
The air.
The air.
All I saw was the air. And my Maß. Then the neighboring table's soaked wooden surface lapped at my face. Turns out Einstein is still alive and decided to jump off the other side of the bench I stood on, hurling my friend and I backwards. It wasn't until the next day (once again) that I realized what damage I had suffered. I had bitten my tongue all around the sides and my knee ached as I went up steps the next few days.
You know what though? Not a drop of my beer spilled. That's a win in my book.
I will write all about the Golden City in a post soon to follow but I just thought I'd let you know why this second portion of Oktoberfest took so long. Before I can can even write about one city I'm already in another. Crappy life, huh? I don't think so either. Without much more humble jumble, here's what happened the other times I fested in Oktober.
Lines, lines. Waiting, waiting. No, no. That's what you get outside an Oktoberfest tent if you come too late in the day. I can't help but get the feeling I'm a lonely freshmen who decided to walk around the frat quad, and see from which one I can snatch some alcohol. Except here in Deutschland, the bier isn't free. As I said before and I'll say it again, my wallet has been sore for a while.
On Day 3 (Tuesday night, whaddup!) I took advantage of the half priced rides on family night. For those of you who are questioning why there is a family night at Oktoberfest, a giant bier festival, keep wondering. I have no idea who would bring their kids to such an event where grown adults drink toward a stupor and spend a month's salary in a few hours. But I say, at least they know what to look forward to when they're older. You gotta give kids a chance to dream after all.
Back on the five-ring Olympic roller coaster, Megan and I rode front row, despite being cut off in line by two 10-year-old Germans. Then she convinced me (and herself, because she had no idea what it did either) to ride "Top Spin". Imagine rows of movie theater seats flying through the air and spinning backward and forward in the process. We figured if all the totally-impressionable future-beer-drinking kids could do it, we could, too.
By the time we met up with the rest of the students in my program, one of them had kissed half the people a the table and couldn't really stand up on her on will. She had a good time to be sure, but our friend's vomit-covered dirndl would disagree. Then came disaster after disaster which would haunt me for the next week.
As I stood on the table in a biergarten and went to take a swig of my beer, my friend stood up to go to the restroom. Worse. Timing. Ever. His shoulder bumped my arm and rocketed my glass straight into my teeth. Admittedly, I was already one and half liters in and it didn't hurt too bad. I felt like there was a tiny shard of glass lodged in between my two front teeth. I could deal with that. It was only the next morning I realized that sharp edge was actually my chipped tooth. I like to think of it as my Oktoberfest battle scar. It's really not too outrageous of a story, but everyone I meet from here on out doesn't need to know the truth. They can't handle the truth. So lies, extravagance and debauchery are the only solutions.
But wait, reader! You recall the mention that one disaster followed this one? Well, unfortunately, I like using a lot of commas, and something else did happen, to me.
As four of us squeezed onto a table full of Irishmen, we rejoiced in our luck and the insane atmosphere. Fest music, screams, chants and beer filled the air. The air.
The air.
The air.
All I saw was the air. And my Maß. Then the neighboring table's soaked wooden surface lapped at my face. Turns out Einstein is still alive and decided to jump off the other side of the bench I stood on, hurling my friend and I backwards. It wasn't until the next day (once again) that I realized what damage I had suffered. I had bitten my tongue all around the sides and my knee ached as I went up steps the next few days.
You know what though? Not a drop of my beer spilled. That's a win in my book.
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