in less than 6 hours. Ah, I love days like these. Although, if I’m completely honest with myself, that’s pretty much how every day ends up: pale faced and half dead.
We piled onto the bus that would take us to the much touted “second largest oktoberfest in the nation”. Hmmm… Not sure about that one. But it did have the second largest number of people chewing tobacco and wearing beer slogan t-shirts.
Can I describe how nice the day was? R and I had just come off of almost two straight weeks of rain and to walk outside into that sunshine? Divine. It was like heaven opened up to my cute dirndl dress and said, “Go on, my little bavarian child and bask in the fruits (or hops?) of the german microbreweries.”
Okay. I will, I said.
But our first stop was food: brauts, potato cakes, and onion blossoms. Life was good… my cinched waist was not.
We wandered aorund the grounds, until our exhausted feet found some tables in the open air. I mean, yes we were tired. We had just spent the entire morning eating breakfast burritos, drinking blackberry fermented “juice” and watching a marathon of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia. Wouldn’t you be tired too?
This is me midway through a lager and conversation. If you’ve spent any amount of time with me on a beautiful day sipping some spirits, you know my thought process. Unfortunately, this thought process usually turns into a vocal adaptation. Here it is in a nutshell:
- I really like hanging out with you guys
- Isn’t it beautiful out?
- Yes, pour me a little.
- Okay, a bit more.
- Shouldn’t we go on a trip together?
- My parents are going to pass away someday. (This sounds like a horrible statement. But it’s not intended to be. I’m only consoled when someone reminds me that 63 is the new 53.)
- Wait, I’m going to pass away some day.
- Are you guys going to miss me?
- What would you say about me at the funeral?
- Is anyone listening?
- So back to that trip…
- What. You don’t want to go on one now? It’s okay, I’m over our mortality. I promise.
- So what have you been up– wait. Back to me. What have I been up to? Well … [insert 30 minutes of non-stop talking*]
- Cackling laughter
- Did I tell you how much I like hanging out with you?
*This is actually a false statement. Ever since starting this blog, I now have nothing to talk about in person (re: myself)
After a few hours, I started to notice a decline in our host T. To the point where he grabbed hold of a turkey leg and pounded his phone with one digit. Next he would be dragging a woman along the ground by her hair.
Luckily we had to leave for our Thriller debut before seeing that caveman spectacle.
But I did get to see (and experience) a Big Lebowski scene with R while getting ready for Thriller. Except this time it was baby powder and not ashes.
Friends, there is absolutely one vital thing to bring along to a 12-yr old’s Thriller competition. Good sports of husbands. Man, they didn’t complain once. They made fun of it all (and us), but never complained. Even when we asked them to do their best zombie stance.
Awesome.
This isn’t the last you’ll see of J & T. They’re coming down for the Adventure Race next weekend. I’ll probably look like a zombie in those photos as well. Need to start exercising. Stat.
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[…] Dancing the Thriller…in sneakers. If I saw a zombie coming towards me in white tennies, I’d either poke him in the eyes (and hope he doesn’t block me with forked fingers) or run my butt off. He might’ve died running. […]