Pinchvalve sent this one in
Germany and beer seem to go hand in hand. I was there on business in Munich once, working at a trade show. The last day of the show, the guys from the shop arrive to tear down the booth. They are asking me about my time in Germany, and if I have been to any good “beergardens”. I tell them that I have been to some very nice restaurants, but they insist that they must take me to “Zee Hoffbrauhaus”. I defer, as I have an early flight to catch. At 9:00pm, they are at my hotel door anyway. All 7 of them. “get in zee van, we go to party!”
We head into town, but it is quickly apparent that they local Munich Football Team (soccer to you and me Timmy) has won the all-German championship that evening. The place is madness! Can’t get near the Hoffbrauhaus, but every bar is packed and the streets are jammed with crazy fans. We join the celebration and there is much beer, sausages, strippers, beer, college girls, beer, saurkraut and beer.  These fans simply do not stop partying, and I can’t seem to pay for a beer anywhere.
Eventually, I take a cab from the party to my hotel and attempt to tell the cabbbie (in english/german/slur) to wait. I pack my bag in such a state that I now have nice German towels, sheets, a lamp and part of a chair. I go straight to the airport hoping to catch my 6:00 am flight. I pass out within the Customs area, puke waiting for the plane (see sausage and kraut above) and somehow they let me on the plane. (Apprently this is either normal in the land of Octoberfest, or they just want to get rid of me.)
I land in Gatwick, England and am quickly assaulted by a group of German fans from a city other then Munich. Oh, am I still wearing team colors? I fix the problem by puking on them and passing out on a bench. Some kind soul wakes me by spilling coffee on me, but I have time to RUN to my plane bound for JFK.  Oddly enough, I am able to sleep for the entire flight, but may have groped the nice 50-something woman next to me. She was smiling A LOT when I woke up.
I had some coffee in the airport, remembered that I can’t stand coffee and puked some more. I tried a something fruity with alcohol at the TGI Fridays anfd that seemed to help. I made it to my plane back to Pittsburgh, but was in no mood for the bitchy flight attendant. After a few insults back and forth (pre 9/11 of course) I followed her off the plane and reported her to her boss once on the ground. I was about to go completely postal, but my ride was there and took me mercifully away.  I hurt for days and may still be engaged to a girl named Zeeta from Bonn
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