Thursday, May 15, 2008

It's Miller Time

When you're trying to catch a train, you might just miss it. Or you might arrive exactly on time and congratulate yourself for walking calmly from station to platform to seat. Or you might have to sit around entertaining yourself for a frustrating while.

That's the post I started this afternoon, and then I realized it was just a bad explanation of the time/space continuum, something my readers inherently understand already, though you might not be able to say just exactly what it is without a train/arrival/departure reference. Which is exactly how I feel about it.

So let's start this story again.

Last night, I went to Bavaria's second-largest beer festival. Though it is not as big as Oktoberfest, it's miles more charming, set on the side of a hill with tall trees above and cool beer cellars carved into the earth. Also, they serve delicious Hungarian fried bread with garlic sauce and cheese, along with a million kinds of sausage and pretzels that are so big you can wrap them around your waist like Alice's caterpillar and his hookah. I drank some beer, though not as much as everyone else apparently, because when I returned my half-full stein (you can only buy beer a liter at a time), the lederhosen-clad Herr who returned my five-euro(!) mug deposit frowned at me for not cleaning my, mug. I'll admit that there was some singing along to a German oompah band playing Bon Jovi covers, a bit of standing on my chair and dancing (no, it wasn't a table dance situation, it's just what people do at these festivals - those crazy Germans), and a few dirty looks pointed toward the drunk guy at the table behind us who would not stop leering at our table of happy, dancing women.

Then, as you've probably already guessed, I missed my homebound train by two minutes and spent forty minutes sitting around waiting for the next one.

Were you expecting a moral to the story, about everything in life turning out OK even when what missed the opportunity you wanted?

Nope, just a story about beer and sitting around on a train platform. Enjoy.


Gardner said...

I'm guessing you visited the Erlangen Bergkirchweih. Is that Right? We were in Erlangen and N├╝rnberg last weekend, but didn't have time to visit the festival.

Tom said...

Similar story, in that it involves booze and a train (the rest is not so much, as there were no sausages or good bread involved, but rather stale chips and weak pre-packaged salsa):

When I was living in the Bay Area, as worker bees are wont to do we would, from time to time, imbibe in libations at the local tavern after a hard day's work of pushing paper from one pile to t'other.

Now, at this time I worked in San Francisco, but lived in the East Bay, which required a ride on the BART train to get to and from work. On one of the nights where I had indulged a little TOO much, I ended up making the train, but sleeping (yes, we'll call it sleeping) through my stop, only to have to travel to the end of the line and then double back. This added an extra hour and a half to an already late night.

My wife was less than pleased about many aspects of that night, as you can guess.