Wiener Wies’n

The Wiener Wiesn is the little brother of  the Oktberfest in Munich. And while it might not be as big as the original one, it is still fun to go. This year I even managed to go twice, again to the “Pink Wiesn” of the LGBT community and to the closing event.

The “Pink Wiesn” is always great fun and I love how the pink light makes everyone look young and fresh. While I don’t want to go into details here I have to say there were some astonishing developments. You never know your friends, this is the lesson I took away from this event. It started already with them coming later than I did although I had my Pilates and had to rush home to get dressed in the traditional Dirndl. But maybe this was the root of all evil because they all met before and did a bit of pre-gaming. It was fun to watch how it all unfolded. You probably know how it  is when everybody had too much to drink and you just fool around and think nobody will remember the next day because you won’t do either (actually cut that because Sylvia at least would remember, not that she was there though)? But you know what remembers? Your phone! Gone are the days when you could do all kinds of stupid things and there was no proof the next day except for your guilty conscience. Times have changed and nowadays everything is immortalized on camera! What a surprise then the next day when all the pictures came through on What’s App! Anyway, I promised no compromising pictures here on this site, so I just leave with food for thoughts (honi soit qui mal y pense but please do).

The second time I was at the Wiesn was last Sunday and it was way more civilized not the least because we already started in the afternoon. It always surprises me but a beer in the afternoon is already pretty tasty. One lead to another and very soon (actually already after 15 minutes) we were up on the benches dancing to après-ski music. It’s like dry-humping before the skiing season starts (to get the idea please see here). All in all a very successful afternoon with no embarrassing moments and especially no bruises the next morning (I still don’t know where it came from). That the election then was a disaster even though everybody sold it as a tremendous win was lost in post-alcoholic haze. Yours, Pollybert

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