Wurstfest!

We're going to Wurstfest tomorrow! Yea! It's drunken fun for the whole family. This awesome little Oktoberfest party down in New Braunfels, Texas, is billed as a "10-Day Salute to Sausage," but let's be honest: It's a 10-day salute to beer. And despite that, it's still a great family event. There's plenty of good food, ranging from brats and kraut to traditional carnival food for the kids, and even stuff like you'd expect at the state fair in Dallas, like fried Oreos.

Although most of those attending stick to their light beer, the organizers do have the good sense to make plenty of real German beer available, so I get to swill (if memory serves) lots of Paulaner and Spaten and maybe even Hacker-Pschorr. Mmmm. (I don't really comprehend drinking bland, watery American beer at a German festival, but to each his own.)

Plus, a continual parade of oompah music (which I love) in this really huge dancehall, and for the kids there are lots of carnival rides operated by stoned carneys (okay, that's a satirical comment, I have no actual proof, so don't anybody sue me, although I did have an almost deadly direct experience with less-than-sober carney in my youth. The guy was almost lynched right there on the spot by my father and my friend's father). God bless my wonderful wife, who promised to be our designated driver home, not a pleasant chore going up I-35 toward Austin on a Saturday night with likely drunken Oktoberfesters all around. Please folks, don't get behind the wheel until you're ready.

And despite this dispensation from M'Lady, I'll try to pace myself and not be too big of an ass. She said if I start vomiting she'll leave my ass there. Which is pretty good incentive. I don't particularly want to end up in the Comal County jail, as the whole county is run by Republicans.

And despite the way it sounds, no, I'm not going down there with the intention of getting blitzed (oops, poor choice of words for a German festival), but as we've learned, when you give me an endless supply of really yummy beer, I occasionally lose count of how many I've had. In fact, sometimes I completely lose my ability to count at all. But I'll try to be good.

EDIT: Heh-heh. So it ended up being the wife that puked, not me. Except she didn't puke until we got home. And it was pretty obviously some bad food, not alcohol, that caused it. But I'll still consider it a minor moral victory for me. (Kidding, honey!) Actually, I almost puked while listening to the Texas/Kansas State game on the way home.