Polkapalooza

Well Oktobertfest has come and gone and the fall season is now official. The crowds were bigger than usual and though it was quite humid and we got sprinkled on a few times, the rain held off nicely. I wore sensible (read: non-slip) footgear which aided in keeping my ever-precarious balance and a much-desired low profile. I stuck to my guns and no feathered boas or powdery funnel cakes were purchased. It probably helped that they ran out of funnel cakes early on and no girly boas were to be found, but still... Wildly veering off the ethnic German theme, I munched on nachos rather than bratwurst. While they did serve Pumpkin beer, it was not very pumpkiny nor was it particularly alcoholicy. I bought the large plastic mug rather than the commemorative glass one but never really got a buzz going on. And it wasn’t just the pumpkin choice that lacked ooomph, as a bitterly complaining bro-in-law sampled most of them with the same weak results. I saw a few people I knew and a lot I didn’t. Flower Child showed up in all her boobtastic glory and joined our laid-back group reclining on the mound. The costumed polka band did more talking than playing and when they finally got down to brass tacks, the strains of the despised Chicken Dance were interspersed with the Pennsylvania Polka and Elvis tunes. (wtf?) Nevertheless, I wouldn’t miss this annual event for all the tea in China. Happy Gourds!

My shoes











My mug












View from the infamous mound











Her father's pleasant disposition