Oktoberfest, Day 1
I tried to find a good picture of all three of us, particularly one where Adam wasn't oozing sweat; unfortunatly, he didn't give us much to work with. That is not sweat on my shirt; If you've ever tried to drink out of the wide-opening nalgene bottles while jumping up and down singing Urethra Franklin, you know that I threw up on myself. Just kidding, Malcolm dunked his hand in his beer and re-enacted first grade art class: hand print day(!)
Eye on the prize. (The guy on left plays soccer for Ajax, the Netherland's best/most famous professional soccer team)
Malcolm asking if Ajax could use a starting center midfielder with expertise in 401K's and Life Insurance.
Hey American, The Irish want their shirt back
"The Human Repellent: More effective than talking about what your dream was about last night"
This guy was face down on the table when we arrived. He soon unpassed out, got back up and proceeded to repel people (particularly women) from our table with unrelenting force. His most potent weapon: touching girls asses without them knowing (see above), and then smirking like the unmitigated jackass he was when they turned around. This is particularly annoying because the fun level of Oktoberfest is highly correlated with the fun level of the people at your table. He was on par with getting a knuckle sandwich instead of dawn each day. He got kicked out finally....
...But came back in 4 times.
One of his several magical re-appearances to the table met with a table-wide "ugh, why won't you die"*
Getting kicked out, again.
Day 2 next post.
ps. Aretha Franklin has nothing on Urethra.
*we kid (about his wished death, not about him being terrible)
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