Instances of spontaneity. Benches of people linking their arms together and moving side-to-side, up and down. such heartwarming camaraderie. gung-ho drinking, huge trophies of beer to celebrate erdinger the life!, brotherhood, and the occasional feisty female , barrels and barrels of erdinger, erupted exaltations all around. erdinger girls who looked like they just stepped out of a Dutch lady photo shoot instead, and disappointing displays of unfilled corsets. The food..oh the food, except for the beef moulash, I thought I was at a swiss foodfair. Maybe marche catered the food. I was most amused by this man swishing his mug of beer happily, going Kopf schultert Kniee und Zehen, while tapping his merry feet to the folkloric music. But seriously, Oktoberfest was a letdown. Overhyped. Oversensationalised. Overcrowded. And i give it to this erdinger girl for coming up with the most impromptu and absurd explanation that the fun of the original Oktoberfest is about people squeezing together, when asking us to make space for others on the bench. (!!!) I so not welcome intrusion of my space!
city space. class, everywhere. Slinky black gowns, slits that run thigh-high, plunging backs. Dance baby dance, slow and sensual. Lusty vocals that kept belting out sentimental classic after classic, the songs we feel so well. The pangs, the yearning for you, yet the tasteless oblivion. The glittering panoramic views, the gorgeous settings, twinkles of light for cowherd and his weaving lady. Arrays of glass, shelves of them, shapes and sizes, blurred into glossy visions. Down it all to drown it all, but for the lonely Belvedere that was as bitter as the heart, shots that only tasted of resentment and reproach. see what you've done.