Saturday night the Roomie and I hit up May Fest, which is a German themed street festival, (BTW street festivals are the shit!) this one in particular being one of the better ones in Chicago. We walked over and having arrived at the entrance, had our ID's inspected by a large, sweaty and very drunk German man wearing Lederhosen and one of those helmets with a big spike on top. He remarked that I looked nothing like the picture on my ID but threw a wristband at me anyways (don't they usually put those on for you?).
The place was packed. Actually, I'll re-phrase that, the place was Totally Fucking Packed and the 6 lines to buy tickets (seriously, why do you have to buy tickets?) stretched at least 35 people deep. Since Roomie is a blond and had exact change she was "allowed" to pay for her enormous beer in cash, whereas I was not. No matter, we shared the tub of beer and walked around pointing out guys we thought were hot (this is perhaps our favorite activity when out in public, though we rarely if ever agree on the same guys).
Since we were both hungry and the lines for the tickets, not to mention the lines to buy sausage and kraut were not receding we decided to hit up a bar down the street and get dinner. It seemed like the entire North Side had congregated in our normally quiet enclave and every place was crowded.
We finally settled on a place and ordered some pizza at the bar, and received truly atrocious service from the "I'm Way Too Fucking Cool For You" bartender. Seriously, that woman was a bitch! Normally I'm not so much of an asshole that withhold a tip, but I easily would have if not for the Rommie's conscious.
Anyways, we made out way back to the festival. Everyone was hammered at this point, (even the parents pushing strollers around seemed lit up) although Roomie and I were not exactly sober either. Actually, we were pretty drunk. I stood in line to buy tickets for about 30 seconds when this rich looking guy asked me if I wanted to buy his unused tickets. "Fuck yeah man! But I can only pay you half the amount that they are worth" I replied. He stood there for a second and seemed confused before I said "Ha, I'm just fucking with you man, here's a $20".
With tickets in hand I went to get a beer...and no one asked for my tickets. This happened all night and with the exception of one beer, all the others were free. Oh my, how I love free Hofbrau!
Inside the big white tent a somewhat traditional German Polka band was rocking out old German songs mixed in with some sweet Beatles and Rolling Stones covers. More than once my inebriated Roomie grabbed my arm and we started dancing around while spilling beer. I swear, I was covered head to toe in beer by the end of the night, (drunk guys kept coming up to me and smashing their beer mugs into mine). Good times!
Since I had unused tickets I decided to go back on Sunday with my buddy MarK. We planned on having one beer and maybe some food, at least that was the plan before my other buddy LA found us. He knew several people working the festival, therefore all of the beers were once again free, (did I mention how much I like free Hofbrau?).
Although it was raining on and off we didn't care and just stood in the rain with our hands over our beers. At one point it rained really hard so we sought refuge in a tent. I happened to be standing next to a group of very, very Irish men, and whenever any of them said something to me, I just smiled and said "yeah, guess so!" when in reality I had no fucking clue what they were saying, (although I imagine they were probably calling me a pussy or something - they seemed like they wanted a fight). Needless to say we found another tent to stand under.
Once the sun came out again we were milling around and squinting in the suddenly bright sunshine. One of the things I tend to do to amuse myself when in public is to point out people that look like famous people. I nudged my friend MarK and pointed out this guy that looked like a caricature of Mike Ditka. He had the slicked back hair, the gold aviator sunglasses, the pot belly, the mustache and the loose tropical shirt on, (oh and he was smoking a fat cigar).
These type of guys are dime a dozen in Chicago, so I didn't think much of it. MarK disappeared and returned 5 minutes later to say, "Dude, that really is Mike Ditka, I just took a picture with him". LA freaked out because he's a huge Saints fan and went over to shake his hand and take a picture too. Fucking Sweet!
This almost lead to walk up to the guy that I suspect used to be the lead singer of Urge Overkill (remember them?), but since I'm not a star fucker I let him drink his beer in peace. Whew, fun, fun weekend. Anyone see the Sopranos last night? That shit was crazy!
PS - I must admit to committing a major party foul. After leaving the festival on Saturday night Roomie and I bought a 12 pack of Spaten beer. After paying for it and walking it out of the liquor store, I dropped it, prompting the bottle to explode - thus adding to the existing beer residue on my shoes. Thankfully, the nice man working in the store ran (yes, ran) and got us another 12 pack. That guy is the shit!
The place was packed. Actually, I'll re-phrase that, the place was Totally Fucking Packed and the 6 lines to buy tickets (seriously, why do you have to buy tickets?) stretched at least 35 people deep. Since Roomie is a blond and had exact change she was "allowed" to pay for her enormous beer in cash, whereas I was not. No matter, we shared the tub of beer and walked around pointing out guys we thought were hot (this is perhaps our favorite activity when out in public, though we rarely if ever agree on the same guys).
Since we were both hungry and the lines for the tickets, not to mention the lines to buy sausage and kraut were not receding we decided to hit up a bar down the street and get dinner. It seemed like the entire North Side had congregated in our normally quiet enclave and every place was crowded.
We finally settled on a place and ordered some pizza at the bar, and received truly atrocious service from the "I'm Way Too Fucking Cool For You" bartender. Seriously, that woman was a bitch! Normally I'm not so much of an asshole that withhold a tip, but I easily would have if not for the Rommie's conscious.
Anyways, we made out way back to the festival. Everyone was hammered at this point, (even the parents pushing strollers around seemed lit up) although Roomie and I were not exactly sober either. Actually, we were pretty drunk. I stood in line to buy tickets for about 30 seconds when this rich looking guy asked me if I wanted to buy his unused tickets. "Fuck yeah man! But I can only pay you half the amount that they are worth" I replied. He stood there for a second and seemed confused before I said "Ha, I'm just fucking with you man, here's a $20".
With tickets in hand I went to get a beer...and no one asked for my tickets. This happened all night and with the exception of one beer, all the others were free. Oh my, how I love free Hofbrau!
Inside the big white tent a somewhat traditional German Polka band was rocking out old German songs mixed in with some sweet Beatles and Rolling Stones covers. More than once my inebriated Roomie grabbed my arm and we started dancing around while spilling beer. I swear, I was covered head to toe in beer by the end of the night, (drunk guys kept coming up to me and smashing their beer mugs into mine). Good times!
Since I had unused tickets I decided to go back on Sunday with my buddy MarK. We planned on having one beer and maybe some food, at least that was the plan before my other buddy LA found us. He knew several people working the festival, therefore all of the beers were once again free, (did I mention how much I like free Hofbrau?).
Although it was raining on and off we didn't care and just stood in the rain with our hands over our beers. At one point it rained really hard so we sought refuge in a tent. I happened to be standing next to a group of very, very Irish men, and whenever any of them said something to me, I just smiled and said "yeah, guess so!" when in reality I had no fucking clue what they were saying, (although I imagine they were probably calling me a pussy or something - they seemed like they wanted a fight). Needless to say we found another tent to stand under.
Once the sun came out again we were milling around and squinting in the suddenly bright sunshine. One of the things I tend to do to amuse myself when in public is to point out people that look like famous people. I nudged my friend MarK and pointed out this guy that looked like a caricature of Mike Ditka. He had the slicked back hair, the gold aviator sunglasses, the pot belly, the mustache and the loose tropical shirt on, (oh and he was smoking a fat cigar).
These type of guys are dime a dozen in Chicago, so I didn't think much of it. MarK disappeared and returned 5 minutes later to say, "Dude, that really is Mike Ditka, I just took a picture with him". LA freaked out because he's a huge Saints fan and went over to shake his hand and take a picture too. Fucking Sweet!
This almost lead to walk up to the guy that I suspect used to be the lead singer of Urge Overkill (remember them?), but since I'm not a star fucker I let him drink his beer in peace. Whew, fun, fun weekend. Anyone see the Sopranos last night? That shit was crazy!
PS - I must admit to committing a major party foul. After leaving the festival on Saturday night Roomie and I bought a 12 pack of Spaten beer. After paying for it and walking it out of the liquor store, I dropped it, prompting the bottle to explode - thus adding to the existing beer residue on my shoes. Thankfully, the nice man working in the store ran (yes, ran) and got us another 12 pack. That guy is the shit!
4 comments:
Let me ask you, do you like Hofbrau by any chance?
No Maypole dancing?
No Maypole dancing - just polka bouncing. I will have a chance to run around the Maypole next weekend at Midsommer Fest in A'ville...
I too like to hang out with my friends and we talk about who's hot and who's not. But we frequently have the same taste.
Does this mean I like straight guys or that straight girls like gay guys. O wait, the answer is obvious.
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