Hey Chop, are you going to Oktoberfest at the Fairgrounds today? Of course we are. Don’t be dumb. We’ve been sweating and swearing in the goddamn desert for the last 3 months, drinking naught but mere element and dreaming of beer and fall weather. There is no way under the sun we’d miss this.

Oh. Are you going to go there by light rail? Certainly! That thing is only good for going to 3 places anyway… the airport, the stadium, and the fairgrounds. When the order of the day is nothing but revelry and rabble-rousing, designated driving is out of the question. Besides, any jackass can sing off key polkas at the top of his lungs in a car. We plan to do it on the train, where you can get a really pukka singalong going if you do it right.

Das ist eine riesige Hündin.

Cool. Do you think you might check out the wife carrying competition? What’s the matter with you!?!?! Wife carrying is our favorite sport ever! Even more than demolition derby and midget wrestling! We don’t even care if it’s not actually German. you’re damn right we’re going to watch it, and maybe even bet on it.

Wait a minute. This is a lot of day drinking. It runs from noon ’til six. What’s up for the rest of the night?
Well, the last time we did any German drinking we stuffed ourselves silly with kraut and beets and cheeses and dumplings and of course, beer. We’re planning on shoving anything we can get our hands on into our greedy, dirty maw, and if history is any indication we’re probably going to flopped out on the bed in a bloated, bleary stupor by about 7 or 7:30. The rest of the night is reserved for watching playoff baseball, eating Tums by the dozen, and enjoying the empty house while Roommate is in NYC for the weekend.

Kind of sounds like you’re a sad old man.

Yeah. Probably am.

And you’re okay with that?

Yep.