The “The trouble with Oktoberfest” post
The trouble with Oktoberfest, if you happen to be of a certain disposition, is that you may very well find yourself at evening’s end drunk on St Pauli Girl, sitting in the bathroom with a pair of professional-grade hair clippers and no idea how properly to use them. Which means that when you wake up in the morning to urinate, you could very well frighten yourself half to death simply by passing in front of the medicine chest mirror. If you happen to be of a certain disposition, I mean.
Oh. And all the filthy Germans don’t help, either.