Stuttgart! Beer Fest! Kebab?
Alright, to set the frame I will tell you how this adventure came into fruition. Before we came to France, I was told that a road trip to Germany for Oktoberfest was the best trip we could do. So, as we approached October, we started looking into renting a car and figuring out where the hell we were going to go. Munich is the best known out of all the parties, but it is also the most crowded with tourists. Stuttgart is a smaller celebration, but also offers a little more in the way of authenticity. The kicker was that we had a free place to stay in Stuttgart, thanks to Shephali, which would dramatically help our need to be economical. So, let's rent a car? It doesn't seem expensive but with the distance we are driving we would get charged extra, a lot extra, so new plan. Hmm... hey, Radu, don't you have a car? Do you have any interest in going to Oktoberfest? Really? You always wanted to go? We have a place to stay if you drive!
So, now that the plan is set and Radu is driving us all the way to big bad Germany, we just need to prepare our livers for liter upon liter of beer. I did say liter. The plan was to meet outside of school at 5:00 and be ready to hit the road hard leaving all day Saturday for the festivities. Team GOFO, engage! As this is the first mention of team GOFO, I feel obligated to explain but I also must be tentative with the choice of words as the team concept is not appropriate for many dinner tables. Essentially, it is a team dedicated to the acquisition of fine foreign ass. When we travel, we hunt. The idea was mostly as a joke, but the leap to coordinated string bracelets crafted by Kelly made things a little more official. We soon embraced the spirit and made most decisions with GOFO in mind. Seemed to work well for others but my luck was slightly less apparent.
The car ride was as expected. We had some fun, slept part of the time, ate a lot of junk food, and were exhausted when reaching our final destination. I resorted to overpriced Burger King for dinner along the way, my first lapse into fast food since I left for South Africa, but I had little choice in the matter. In the rest stop we jumped around the barrier insisting we pay to use the bathroom, because seriously who the hell pays to use a bathroom? Cory and I made an interesting discovery on our way out, however. In place of a standard condom or cigarette dispenser, we found a sex toy dispenser complete with cock rings and pocket pussies. I guess Germany is different than France... this could be a better trip than I expected. Petite parantez, crossing the border was completely uneventful. There were remnants of a former border control guard, but all gates were up and buildings empty. It was my first time witnessing the free passage that takes place throughout the EU mainland.
Arriving in Stuttgart was a relief. Shephali's friend was extremely nice and welcoming, and his apartment was bigger and better than expected. I expected to sleep on the floor, which I did, but the circumstances were relatively comfortable all things considered. MJ did not live in the city itself, but his place was in a cool suburb with a decent night life in its own right, and the city was easily accessible by public transport. Do we want to party the first night? Tempting, but the pillow called my name like a Siren so to bed we went. Correction, to floor we went.
Waking up in the morning we saw the beauty of the German countryside from MJ's balcony. How could a population become so angry living in such a peaceful place? The question is a joke Aaron, there is no need to submit an answer to this one. The beauty was furthered with a warm breakfast followed promptly by a cold road beer. At first I was slightly concerned with drinking on the train into Stuttgart, but I effectively calmed those fears walking onto a train car with no less than twenty open beer bottles already in progress. The booze train it is! Everyone seemed to be headed to the same place as us with the same thing in mind. We saw vineyards on the way in, I stared at the beauty. We also saw a factory smoke stack with "DICK" printed on the side, I laughed. The "Spreken zi dick, Derek" quote from Step Brothers was then brought up and repeated throughout the time in Germany.
Once off the train, we decided to venture towards the now familiar delicacy of Kebab. Done much differently in Germany, this four euro behemoth was piled with much thinner meat and much more... shit. Onions, peppers, lettuce, tomatoes, two different sauces. There could have been a crab cake with sprinkled seasonings inside, who knows. Regardless, I split one with MJ and was completely set for a marathon of willpower. My stomach was coated and had some absorption power built in, but was not too full to prevent me from adding a few liters.... nice. Making our way to the beer fest, we somehow entered a giant carnival. What? The beer festival is inside the Carnival? I wondered to myself if beer by the liter and thrill rides were appropriately placed together. It's like a Nazi training camp for future and veteran alcoholics. I decided against the rides, but was all for a bite of Kelly's sausage and some free sweets from a snack stand. The others joined in on the fun and team GOFO added a new set of goals to its short list. So, where is the beer? Where is this famed 'fait du biere'? Oh, that's interesting... a giant tent with a two story inflatable beer on top and live music. Found it!
We get a table situated close, but not too close, to the stage and get ready to party. Before this moment in time, we had no idea that the beer actually came in one liter glasses. Originally shocked that I was about to pay 8 euros for a beer, I soon realized that the price per unit was cheaper than Lyon by a long shot, and quality in a whole other world. This is not hard because the French absolutely SUCK at making beer. Like, I can't even describe how shitty most French beers are. There is one exception, but that is like saying there was one regiment of the French army who actually fought a battle. That doesn't really hide the fact that the country as a whole has a reputation for surrendering.
Anyways, back to the point. We get situated at our table and get introduced to faces familiar to familiar faces. As I am seeking further amusement, I also meet some native Germans. This was a cultural lesson as I learned the best way to grip the giant beerstien and how to sing the crazy German drinking songs. I will never remember the words, but at the time I did as well as I could have hoped for sure. In my own bubble, I failed to realize just how crowded the party had gotten. When we first arrived it was at roughly 1/3 of its capacity and now they were looking for people to kick out due to overcrowding. We held down the fort and kept our table, but there was scooching necessary to let in some friendly girls. "Are you German? Really? Well, how do you do? Umm... I mean... just tell me your name and make out with me." From what I could tell, that is pretty much all Cory had to say to attract his young little Svenya. She was cute, possibly under aged, but hey its Germany. Team GOFO was all set on the mission as Shephali found an Irish pirate to occupy her time and Kelly a half-douche American. Noticing this I realized I had done little in terms of working my game with anyone, and quickly found the closest cute face to talk to. No dice, but no use crying over unspilt milk. (hahaha.... get it?) We linger for a bit trying to get everyone on the same page and finally commit to heading out. We had accomplished a lot and become legends in our own dreams.
On the train ride home, Cory left his German lover behind while the girls continued their public escapades. Shephali in particular had some interesting things to say the next morning. Hmm... moving on. We returned to MJ's town, which I cannot remember the name of, and went to the party side of town following a relatively quick family style dinner at his apartment. An old world feel, it was mostly pubs and cobblestone, suitable for a wind down after drinking beer for the previous 10 hours. Pumped my veins with Redbull, but its no use. I am crashing and crashing quickly. Seeing the other's eyes I realize I am not alone and agree to catch a cab back to the house. Back first, Kelly and I have been put in position to move from the floor and take the bed that Shephali and Cory shared the previous night. We are not necessarily entitled to it, but we want it. The two fake lovers know this and make a move to take over the precious real estate. Their plan, and I admit it was somewhat ingenious, was to pretend as if they were going to have sex by aggressively making out while taking off a few layers of clothes. This act started when they walked in the front door and didn't stop until they shut the bedroom door in my face. Luckily their collective conscience got the best of them and they surrendered the bed to the one with an aching back. Hey Kelly, wanna give me a massage? Yes! Snooze time.
A new revelation came into my mind just now. Cory and Shephali make out for the hell of it quite often. However, on this occasion there is an added twist. It happened in the same night as her little soiree with the Irish Pirate. I cannot really give much more detail than that, but Cory's lips were the same place as Shephali's... haha sucks to be you bud.
The morning came, the usual events took place and we parted ways from our gracious host. My thought was that we would just go the opposite direction that we came, retracing our steps like Hansel and Gretel. Radu did not see this as the obvious option and instead followed signs to take us into Stuttgart. We did not need to do this, but a little detour getting lost in the damn city added an hour to our return drive... yippee! All the same, we got ourselves back to France in a similar but more drowsy fashion than we left. Fast food was on Radu's mind but we steered him elsewhere. I played songs from a dirty playlist, we had some laughs here and there, and we slept. It was the afternoon when we returned, which also happened to be nap time, nice!
It was a great time and a good way to start travel beyond French borders. They may be strict and cold, but those Germans make damn good beer.
Peace and Love from the World,
Scotty
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