Bavaria, Land of Drunk Babies

Posted on
Aug 27, 2013
Posted in: Random Musings

My father lives in a rural part of Bavaria, surrounded by farmland. The air is rich with the smell of cows and manure, and traffic jams are caused by tractors. Should you think I am being hyperbolic on that last point:

THERE IS FARM EQUIPMENT IN BOTH LANES. It’s basically Kansas, people.

After France, we went to visit him. My brother, sister-in-law, and wee nephew joined us. There’s nothing within walking distance of my dad’s place, except for a small Greek restaurant, so we went there and ate pizza and kabobs outside.

Summer in Bavaria = jeans and fleeces

The little one wanted to try everyone’s drinks. First, there was fizzy water.

He’s totally game.

His reaction:

“DEAR GOD IN HEAVEN WHAT ARE YOU BASTARDS FEEDING ME?” said the baby.

Then there was beer. Before you start lecturing me over the negative effects of giving beer to children, let me state a few things:

  1. This is Europe. Even the juice boxes have alcohol in them. 
  2. My brother and I grew up having sips of beer or wine now and then, and we turned out just fine except for the fact that we’re both jobless and also, I had a brain tumor.
  3. There is no point three.
  4. Mind ya business.

Here’s the wee on taking a sip of what might be booze (#plausibledeniability):

Aaaand his reaction:

“Hey, that’s kinda nice. Was it that, an IPA?”

And this …

 

“Dude, I’m pretty sure that’s mine.”

Later, he passed out on his mother. He’s a sloppy drunk.*

*He also, apparently, peed his pants.

 

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