Monday, March 27, 2006

How to drink like a pro at a village festival: for EXPERTS!!!

I have to thank my dear friend Mullu for this one, who became a dad a year ago. Prost Mullu!

That’s how it’s done!!!!
(In and around Germany – don’t try this at home. You’ll fuck yourself up.)

1. Ordering one beer is out of the question. That would imply that you’re a stingy bastard, have no friends or the worst ever: you’re an anti-alcoholic.

2. Therefore, always order at least ten beers, one meter, or better yet, a complete trayfull.
Never count the exact number of people standing about and never order that exact number. The best thing to do is to roar out any number that pops in your head across the bar, and there you go.

3. Completely wrong: Asking those around you if they want one more beer. Important rule: no questions. Drinking isn’t fun after all.

4. When the goods arrive, don’t look around like an idiot trying to figure out whom to give one to. The best way is to pass the glasses around ferociously, since that’s how you can show your generosity. Only the narrow-minded prick waits in the line.

5. Who pays for which round? Tradition has it that everyone gets their turn. Some miserable wankers enjoy the first nine rounds at the bar, and when it’s their turn to pay, suddenly they must go take a whizz. The first one to order usually determines the duration of the project: If he orders twelve beers, all others must wait for twelve rounds. It is very important that the current is never interrupted. Therefore, when everyone’s glasses are half full (or half empty?), immediately order the next round and push the new glasses in their hands. Totally embarrassing: Standing at the bar with two glasses in your hands. That’s why getting beer down your throat demands pace. It’s not a child's birthday you’re attending.

6. Really mean dickheads order a round of Korn or the absolute horror „Jägermeister“ in between. This is serious. Should the situation come up, you should escape. Don’t forget: You can survive beer drinking at the village festival with a little bit of planning and luck, but after Jägermeister, even the paramedic refuses to resuscitate the mess.

7. Pulling through consistently, you should normally be hammered like a tinker by half past eight. Of course you can’t even consider going home yet, fearing people might suspect you’re a wuss. So, now what? Take breaks! Two things are traditionally designed for this purpose: Stuffing sausages and dancing.

First: Stuffing sausages
Advantages: there is no Jägermeister at the sausage stand, which means you are temporarily safe from alcohol poisoning by others. The sausage stands at village festivals are always designed in a way that the demand is always greater than the supply. Also, in most cases you can sole the shoes of the specialists who work in these stands while they are grilling. The only necessary qualification: they can survive below a 1% oxygen rate in the air, which makes them appear seemingly dead. The fool might say: Bollocks, the whole thing could be much better organized: the stuff could come across the bar like lightning. Wrong:
the pathetic sausage stands with zombies grilling are not the outcome of a mistake, they’re there for a reason. Here, you can seek asylum from the drinking, and the longer you have to wait for the burnt lump, the more your chances of survival.

Second: Dancing
it is the worse option compared to stuffing sausages, because it is tiring and involves women. But there comes a time when you can’t stuff any more lumps in your paunch and that’s when you must bite the sour apple. So, off you go, pick a boiler from the banks and start making ridiculous moves. If you’re lucky, the band play more than two songs and you can sweat out a couple of beers through your ribs. However, if you’re unfortunate, they play the Bar march and there you are once more where you had just fled.

Third: Wine bar
A really creepy place, hence the litter of the festival tent. It is so crowded and crammed here that you stay on your feet when your limbs are not actually working. It is possible that some war veterans might have had both their leg prostheses stolen and they hadn’t noticed it. Yet, the price you pay for this standing aid is high: You must drink wine out of pathetic little flower vases you know from giving sperm samples at the urologist. Pretty gross, the whole thing. Sometimes, when there is no wine bar, there is a cocktail bar: But cocktail doesn’t mean Caipirinha or Margarita in the tent; it means Fanta/Korn or Korn with Fanta. So careful. It can go downhill very fast here. An alternative for the very fast way to nirvana is the magic drink: Korea. It is a phenomenon when you consider the price-efficiency-rate: so does the critical consumer get themselves drunk and the target is reached in a whiff. But before you can go home, there is one more very important issue, which is...

Fourth: Barfing
Sounds crap, yet you will be thankful if your body bestows upon you this gift. You have room for more sausages and maybe you’re lucky enough to have caught the last twenty beers before they got to your brain. The pro barfs often and likes it anyway. So, that would almost bring us to going home. Haha. But if you’ve missed the time frame and you’ve come back into the tent from pissing or barfing, and there are still twenty people standing; ouch: You’ve just drawn the ass card. Because now it is:

Fifth: The last rounds
From now on it is about more exciting stuff like drinking from the barrel – there’s always more in it than you think, or the infamous „bottoms up!“. If it’s a Jägermeister, never mind the paramedic, just call the undertaker. Now everyone will be looking out that no one takes off secretly. The first ones sink together in front of the bar so they won’t have to drink more in any case. Advantage of this phase of the village festival: You don’t have to crawl outside to piss and barf anymore: now everything happens on the spot.

Sixth: Going Home
Doesn’t happen. Don’t fool yourself: you can’t do it alone anymore,
there are no taxis in the country, and even if there were any, they wouldn’t take you.
Your wife doesn’t come pick you up; she’s happy that this wreck isn’t lying around at home and stinking up the furniture. What’s now left is...

Seventh: The Morning after
The first rays of the sun are breaking through the rips in the canvas cover of the tent.
You are awakened with a tongue kiss like you’ve never had before in your life. Passionately, you kiss back. Then you open your clotted eyes and look into the happy face of the ragged mutt from the tent floor. And the day begins with your own contribution to the concept of a coughing fit. Your head feels like it has been hit by a missile. Now there's only one thing that can help you: Back-up beer until the engine runs halfway normally again...


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