Previous chapters:
Cast of Characters
Monday 9/20
Tuesday 9/21
Wednesday 9/22
Thursday morning ceased to exist, as far as I know. I woke up around 1 Thursday afternoon, and I felt pretty good. I walked into the other room in our suite, where Shane and Derrick were also just waking up. Shane was still in his clothes from the night before. He got up, looked at his hands and jeans and asked, "Why are my hands and jeans bloody?" I answered with two words: "Gloria Estefan." "Happens every time," he replied. He then let out a bellow, started flexing, and eating mozzarella sticks that he smuggled in from Chicago.
Given Wednesday's debauchery and that we were going back to the tents on Friday, we decided to take it relatively easy on Thursday.
Bonham is both cunning and full of wanderlust. He had presumably been up since 5 a.m., exploring Munich's underbelly. He communicated telepathically with me to let me know he was at the Hofbraukeller, a restaurant and beer garden owned by Hofbrau. It's a little bit outside of the center of the city, across the river, and much lesser known than the Hofbrauhaus. It was a spectacular find by Bonham.
Shane, Derrick, and I hopped on the subway a couple stops, and then exited with absolutely no idea which way to go. Everything was in German. Thankfully, I smelled a hint of pineapple brandy mixed with blood, which meant that Bonham couldn't be far away. We followed the smell to find him sitting alone at a table in the Hofbraukeller's large and welcoming beer garden, a ham hock in one hand and a liter of beer in the other, cackling like a hyena.
Meanwhile, Daniel, Chandler, Alex, Colt, and Laura went on a tour of Neuschwanstein, a spectacular castle a couple hours away in the Bavarian mountains. According to pictographic evidence, Daniel was struggling, sweating like a whore in church.
While there, he saw this sign for sale, which was the only sign in English: 
Back at the Hofbraukeller, RPTre, Kellie, and Mirka showed up a little while after we got there. A good laugh was had by all. 
Gregerson and Emily followed a little while later. We had become too big of a group for our initial table, so we moved to a larger vacant table next to us. A stern fraulein waitress frantically rushed up to us and spewed what I assume were profanities at us in German, pointing to a wooden sign that hung from a tree above the table. What we gathered is that this table was reserved for someone named Mir San Mir!
Thus, we moved to another vacant table. That one was also apparently reserved, even though it was the middle of the afternoon and the place was pretty much empty. We finally found a table that was agreeable for both sides.
In addition to the beer and the garden, another awesome thing about the Hofbraukeller is that there is on-site day care. I kid you not, you can bring your kinder, plop them down in their little play area, get shitfaced, and then pick them up eight hours later.
By the way, when you take a shit at the Hofbraukeller, they make you look at pictures on the back of the door showing German children eating Italian food and yelling. Unsurprisingly, the title of a German poster has the initials "KKK." There's nothing right about this. 
At dusk, some toddler walked up to our table. His soulless eyes and attempts to take our goats indicated to us that he was a gypsy.
Unsure of what to do next, we did the only thing we could think of: we popped and locked. Then we ate the gypsy kid (he tasted gamier than I would have thought). Then we got kicked out. Then we started riding lions and cows. 
Then we went to the subway station, where we started singing "99 Red Balloons" (English lyrics), which caused Kellie to air motorboat Mirka. Notice the guy in the background. From the knees down, he is a fucking deer. 
Then Gregerson made himself into a statue and mounded himself to a wall. 
After that, we headed to Der Pschorr for some dinner. While some of us ate, Kellie slept, as is her style. 
As night fell on Munich, we watched as a full moon entered the hop-filled Bavarian sky.
We went back to the hotel somewhat early because we had to get up early Friday morning to head to the tents. No one slept well that night. I was restless, so I got up around three in the morning to wander the streets. I fed on a drunken Slovenia couple walking through the deserted market and some wild dachshunds I found in a nearby badger hole. Prove to me that it didn't happen.
Cast of Characters
Monday 9/20
Tuesday 9/21
Wednesday 9/22
Thursday morning ceased to exist, as far as I know. I woke up around 1 Thursday afternoon, and I felt pretty good. I walked into the other room in our suite, where Shane and Derrick were also just waking up. Shane was still in his clothes from the night before. He got up, looked at his hands and jeans and asked, "Why are my hands and jeans bloody?" I answered with two words: "Gloria Estefan." "Happens every time," he replied. He then let out a bellow, started flexing, and eating mozzarella sticks that he smuggled in from Chicago.
Given Wednesday's debauchery and that we were going back to the tents on Friday, we decided to take it relatively easy on Thursday.
Bonham is both cunning and full of wanderlust. He had presumably been up since 5 a.m., exploring Munich's underbelly. He communicated telepathically with me to let me know he was at the Hofbraukeller, a restaurant and beer garden owned by Hofbrau. It's a little bit outside of the center of the city, across the river, and much lesser known than the Hofbrauhaus. It was a spectacular find by Bonham.
Shane, Derrick, and I hopped on the subway a couple stops, and then exited with absolutely no idea which way to go. Everything was in German. Thankfully, I smelled a hint of pineapple brandy mixed with blood, which meant that Bonham couldn't be far away. We followed the smell to find him sitting alone at a table in the Hofbraukeller's large and welcoming beer garden, a ham hock in one hand and a liter of beer in the other, cackling like a hyena.
Meanwhile, Daniel, Chandler, Alex, Colt, and Laura went on a tour of Neuschwanstein, a spectacular castle a couple hours away in the Bavarian mountains. According to pictographic evidence, Daniel was struggling, sweating like a whore in church.
While there, he saw this sign for sale, which was the only sign in English: Back at the Hofbraukeller, RPTre, Kellie, and Mirka showed up a little while after we got there. A good laugh was had by all. Gregerson and Emily followed a little while later. We had become too big of a group for our initial table, so we moved to a larger vacant table next to us. A stern fraulein waitress frantically rushed up to us and spewed what I assume were profanities at us in German, pointing to a wooden sign that hung from a tree above the table. What we gathered is that this table was reserved for someone named Mir San Mir!Thus, we moved to another vacant table. That one was also apparently reserved, even though it was the middle of the afternoon and the place was pretty much empty. We finally found a table that was agreeable for both sides.In addition to the beer and the garden, another awesome thing about the Hofbraukeller is that there is on-site day care. I kid you not, you can bring your kinder, plop them down in their little play area, get shitfaced, and then pick them up eight hours later.
By the way, when you take a shit at the Hofbraukeller, they make you look at pictures on the back of the door showing German children eating Italian food and yelling. Unsurprisingly, the title of a German poster has the initials "KKK." There's nothing right about this. At dusk, some toddler walked up to our table. His soulless eyes and attempts to take our goats indicated to us that he was a gypsy.Unsure of what to do next, we did the only thing we could think of: we popped and locked. Then we ate the gypsy kid (he tasted gamier than I would have thought). Then we got kicked out. Then we started riding lions and cows. Then we went to the subway station, where we started singing "99 Red Balloons" (English lyrics), which caused Kellie to air motorboat Mirka. Notice the guy in the background. From the knees down, he is a fucking deer. Then Gregerson made himself into a statue and mounded himself to a wall. After that, we headed to Der Pschorr for some dinner. While some of us ate, Kellie slept, as is her style. As night fell on Munich, we watched as a full moon entered the hop-filled Bavarian sky. We went back to the hotel somewhat early because we had to get up early Friday morning to head to the tents. No one slept well that night. I was restless, so I got up around three in the morning to wander the streets. I fed on a drunken Slovenia couple walking through the deserted market and some wild dachshunds I found in a nearby badger hole. Prove to me that it didn't happen.In the next installment: a day of lost memories.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment