Octo-BEER-fest

I made the gigantic mistake of going to Gastoff's Octoberfest on friday evening. Some low-lights:

The plan was to meet my friend Tara there. The problem? Tara is barely 5 feet tall and there were about 3 million people there, all taller than Tara. Tara was hard to find.

I had to park six blocks away.

Northeast had just turned into a parade of douchebagotry, in all shapes, forms and sizes.

To get into this event you had to stand single-file and show the bouncer your I.D.
While I patiently waited, a busload of fraternity row's finest apparently didn't understand this rule, and proceeded to gate crash the event. I inevitably had to wait in line longer because of these dolts. Because of all the line budging, I literally smelled like Drakar cologne afterwards.

A mug of beer was $10. I only brought $20.

The cash machine was out of money. I waited 45 minutes for them to refill the machine. While waiting I was crushed into the wall repeatedly by huge meat-head freaks of nature.

I saw a drunk girl look in the mirror and say "Oh my god, for a second I was, like, that girl looks just like me". I swear to fucking god.

Overheard in Minneapolis

By the time I had finally gotten cash, I walked back outside to the tents. They had stopped selling tokens for beer. No more beer. I had one. Fuck me. It was 11:30 and I was there for an hour and a half.

I saw a group of drunk girls run out into traffic, almost get hit by a car, and then scream at the driver as if he had done something wrong. One of them started crying. I laughed loud enough that they could hear me.

To calm my frazzled nerves I went to the 1029 Bar and sang "Working for the Weekend" by Loverboy. Awesome.