Given that Oktoberfest is currently in full swing I thought I’d share a very brief anecdote which always makes me smile.
It was 2008 and we had been frequenting the infamous Hofbrau tent (as well as many others) for a number of years. Being Scots it was of course necessary to don a kilt and walk tall and proud amongst our kindred German brethren. The chicks there love a kilt incidentally, although annoyingly I tended to get more enquiries from blokes asking what was worn underneath.
So we were smashing the steins and generally having a blast – the Germans love to party and there is never any trouble (or very little) considering there’s upwards of 5,000 pissed up revellers in each of the tents. In short, it’s a hoot. One obvious downside though is that when you are knocking back a litre an hour you need to take a leak more often than normal. It’s usually a bit of a bun fight in the Fest bogs but here is where my mate elevated himself above and beyond the crowd. He had just gotten out of some corrective urinary tract surgery the previous month and the Doc had signed him off with flying colours. From a position where he could barely produce a dribble, he was now knocking the proverbial lights out.
So imagine the scene – three merry kilted men enter a hugely busy toilet and find a central spot around 5 meters from the back wall where the locals were crammed in doing their business. My mate then proceed to ask for some space, lifted his kilt and took aim. From fully 5 metres back he turned on the proverbial hose and I shit you not it was gathering pace as it hit the tin wall. The locals were aghast and frankly dumb-struck by this 6ft 4 bloke in a skirt pissing with the force of ten horses. Spontaneous applause erupted and as a humble Scot he took it all in his stride. Needless to say I have never felt more proud to be a Scot than at that moment.
Any other tales where a mate significantly raises the bar and makes you proud?
It was 2008 and we had been frequenting the infamous Hofbrau tent (as well as many others) for a number of years. Being Scots it was of course necessary to don a kilt and walk tall and proud amongst our kindred German brethren. The chicks there love a kilt incidentally, although annoyingly I tended to get more enquiries from blokes asking what was worn underneath.
So we were smashing the steins and generally having a blast – the Germans love to party and there is never any trouble (or very little) considering there’s upwards of 5,000 pissed up revellers in each of the tents. In short, it’s a hoot. One obvious downside though is that when you are knocking back a litre an hour you need to take a leak more often than normal. It’s usually a bit of a bun fight in the Fest bogs but here is where my mate elevated himself above and beyond the crowd. He had just gotten out of some corrective urinary tract surgery the previous month and the Doc had signed him off with flying colours. From a position where he could barely produce a dribble, he was now knocking the proverbial lights out.
So imagine the scene – three merry kilted men enter a hugely busy toilet and find a central spot around 5 meters from the back wall where the locals were crammed in doing their business. My mate then proceed to ask for some space, lifted his kilt and took aim. From fully 5 metres back he turned on the proverbial hose and I shit you not it was gathering pace as it hit the tin wall. The locals were aghast and frankly dumb-struck by this 6ft 4 bloke in a skirt pissing with the force of ten horses. Spontaneous applause erupted and as a humble Scot he took it all in his stride. Needless to say I have never felt more proud to be a Scot than at that moment.
Any other tales where a mate significantly raises the bar and makes you proud?