Alice? Alice? Who the hell is Alice? Part 2

This weekend I am happy to report that I have returned to one of the greatest inventions mankind has ever created. I went back to the German tent. You would think that since I had such an unbelievable experience last year that I would know what I was in for…you’d be wrong.

You see, this year I figured that since this was probably going to be one of the few occasions I was going to have to get wasted out of my head for the next few weeks, I had better leap at the opportunity while I could. I decided to pregame before actually arriving at the tent, so at about 3:30 in the after noon I kicked things off with a rum and Coke. I immediately followed that with to scotch and waters and another rum and Coke. I decided to pace myself a little since for some reason or another I hadn’t had anything to eat for two days. I checked my watch and it was 5:30 pm, Time to roll.

As I arrived at the fair, the first thing I noticed right away was that this year the porta-facilities were a lot closer to the tent than they had been the previous year. This would be helpful to these poor, untrained bastards that were afraid to piss in public. I entered the tent, glanced around at all the Lederhosen and knew it was time to rock and roll.

I knew three things right up front. Number 1, I was already half way to drunk street. Number2, I was absolutely starving. Number 3, I wanted some to that awesome dark German beer. I stumbled over to the kitchen area of the tent where I was delighted to see buffalo brats. I ordered up one of those bad boys, covered him in sauerkraut, ketchup and mustard and began to get my bearings to learn what direction I had to head in to get to the beer. Then, like an exhausted pilot taking a passenger jet full of orphans through a hurricane I saw my shining beacon giving me hope and guiding me in…the beer cart.

Now, same as last year the beer came by the half gallon.  So a half gallon is 64 ounces, most beer bottles are an average of 18 ounces so that works out to three and a half bottles of beer. Now you may be thinking to yourself, “That isn’t that much beer”, but let me tell you, you’re thinking well with in the box. Like the poor daydreaming gimp you are, you need to think outside the box. Fist of all, look at the size of this cup.

Now, as you can see  have my cell phone set up as a point of reference. It isn’t like that’s a tiny cellphone either, its a Palm Treo, it is of considerable size. The beer glass is just huge.  So, I was about to pay for my beer when my old man, a.k.a the Hippy, walks up to me and offers to pay for my frothy beverage. I was more than happy to let him and I proceeded to begin following him back to the table he was sitting at. Mid way through the journey to said table the leader of the Oompa band playing at the time called out “Eine Zwei Drei Vier  Ziggy Socky, Ziggy Socky, Hoy, Hoy, Hoy!” and my ears they perketh up.  Those of you who haven’t had their beer guts replaced with a vagina should know that what the little accordion playing man just said  was “1,2,3,4, Drink up you sober bastards!” so drink…I did. I was a good quarter into my beer before he even said “Prost!” which means “go ahead and drink”. Hell, before we got to the table I had finished half of my dark red delight. Apparently my dad was a few ahead of me.

I started to play catch up. Right around 13 minutes later I had downed two of the behemoths and was on to my third.

Now its time for math. In 13 minutes I drank a gallon and a half of dark German beer which works out to about seven bottles of beer. Now granted I can finish a six pack in under three minutes if its a race, but still right about one bottle every two minutes will still do the trick to get you good and fucked up. Especially if you have had a few drinks before you got to the tent. About that time my seventy-four year old second cousin, who had been doubting my drinking abilities the entire time starts paying attention to the dance floor.

Within moments I hear “Jeeze! Look at the tits on that!”. I glanced back over my shoulder to see what he was referring to, and when I turned back I witnessed one of the strangest things I have ever seen. The 74 year old man said “Shame I forgot my pills”. Now I had already moved into the village of Intoxia at this point so it took a minute for this to process. I looked over at him and saw he made a fist and began moving his arm in a ramming motion. There it was. A 74 year old man talking not only about penis pills, but trying to give the entire table the mental image of him using them. After a full body shiver I decided to take a walk back over to the bar.

On my way passed the dance floor the chicken dance began to fire up. I couldn’t wait to begin yelling “we want more beer”. If you look closely at the photo above, you’ll notice off to the right someone wearing a plastic chicken hat. I really wanted to get one of those before I left the tent, but my condition upon leaving the tent prevented me from doing so. We have a lot more story before that anyway.

I finish up my fourth beer ( two gallons or 14 and 1/2 bottles for those of you playing the home game) when it hits me. I have to piss right now. In my condition I normally would have walked to a dark corner of the tent, whipped it out and begin watering the flowers. Unfortunately this year there was a security guard. Now normally security guards don’t bother me. For the most part they are otherwise unemployed people in their mid 30’s who still live in their mom’s basement. That or they’re college kids. Either way they normally don’t present much of a problem.

Look at this bastard though. He’s HUGE. Now I know you can’t tell from the blurry ass drunken picture I snapped, but he was about 7’1″ and was at least a good five and a half feet around. I decided in my state it was better to not cause a public disturbance at the current juncture. I walked to the porta-johns and looked for one that was unoccupied. I should have known better. I should have known that if there were people waiting in line for some of the other ones and this one not only didn’t have a line but was available for use…no one should use it. I open the door and piss/shit water comes spilling out. Unbekownst to me some kids apparently flipped this one about a half hour prior to me using it. Unfortunately for me I was drunk. Really drunk. I had opened the door. People saw me open the door. As far as my drunken reasoning was concerned I was committed. I was going in.

I get inside and it looked like a wet sloppy shit grenade had gone off and none of the platoon had survived. The smell was worse than anything I have ever experience. The only way I wasn’t going to throw up was to try and block out my senses. I began pissing and from the sound I knew I was just adding to the mess. I stumbled out of the excrement coffin and pretty much blacked out. Apparently I didn’t pass out or stop drinking, I just blacked out.

over my jeans, a green German hat with a So I am now finishing my sixth cup. I know this because all night I have been stacking my cups up to make one super ultra mega cup and It was now six cups tall.  For reasons I still have not been able to determine I am wearing gauplattlerhosen, a green German hat with a Gamsbart, traditional suspenders complete with brestplate and I am dancing with a bunch of other people dressed in traditional German garb. Seriously, what the fuck hapened to get me here. I can’t even imagine the series of lies and strange events that had to occur in just the right sequence for me to end up dressed like this. One thing was for sure, it was apparent to the others that I could NOT folk dance. They asked me politely to step off the dance floor and take off the garb.

On my walk back to the table I decided that maybe I should take a cue from last year and call it quits at three gallons of beer. When I get back to the table my cousin Carol (the horny old man’s daughter) had arrived with her new boyfriend the first words out of his mouth were “I am buying every one a round. You want dark beer or light?” Of course I couldn’t insult the guy.

I decided while he was buying the beer I was going to go get another buffalo brat. When I return to the table my seventh beer is waiting (that’s 448 ounces or almost 25 bottle of beer, is this getting annoying yet) and they have apparently started around of quarters. I was a little upset because they destroyed one of my empty cups to make a smaller cup to play quarters with. It wouldn’t have been so bad, but I was completely hammered out of my mind and I lost 8 rounds in a row. Since the cup they were playing with was about an eighth of the size, that works out to another big cup of beer.

So now I’m eight beers deep and I can barely even stand. Then that old familiar feeling starts creeping up on me. You know the one. Like there is gravel in your belly. I take off running for the shit houses. Once again the only one open was the gross one. No time. I throw open the door and just projectile vomit all over the inside.  I don’t even actually go into the shitter. The good news was as near as I could tell it wasn’t actual puke. Apparently the volume of beer which I had consumed was greater than the volume of my stomach and I was just letting out the extra.

I smoked a cigarette and cleared my head a little. As I walked back into the tent I heard it…

Sally called when she got the word,
And she said: “I suppose you’ve heard –

At that point I thought I was singing along, but let’s be honest. I was probably just slurring my speech and trying not to fall over. That was at least until we go to the chorus. I belted that fucker out like I owned the place.

Oh, I don’t know why she’s leaving,
Or where she’s gonna go,
I guess she’s got her reasons,
But I just don’t want to know,
‘Cos for twenty-four years
I’ve been living next door to Alice.
Twenty-four years just waiting for a chance,
To tell her how I feel, and maybe get a second glance,
Now I’ve got to get used to not living next door to Alice…
Alice? Who the hell is Alice?

After the song I returned to my table and drank another two cups of beer bringing my grand total for the night to nine cups and 8 rounds of drinking from the quarters cup.  5 gallons of beer. 640 ounces.  35 and 1/2 bottles of beer In just under four hours.All of that on top of the to rum and Cokes and two scotch and waters I had before arriving. As I stated, there is one missing because it got destroyed to play quarters, but just look at this glorious stack.

Well at that point it was beyond my control. I needed to get some cotton candy. Since we were technically at the fair, that wasn’t really a problem. I tracked down the cotton candy booth. Pissed behind it. Ordered my cotton candy and walked over to the horse barn. I pissed in the horse barn and decided to not actually zip up my pants as my bladder never quite felt empty. I ate my cotton candy and began the long walk to my dad’s truck. My uncle had agreed to drive and to drop me of at my place of residence. Once we hit the parking lot I walked while pissing and pissed for almost the entire half mile back to the truck.

On the way home, just for the sake of tradition I convinced my uncle to hit up Taco Bell to continue the tradition. This year I might have to hit up the German Tent a few more times. That is, if my kidneys and liver don’t go on strike.

2 responses to “Alice? Alice? Who the hell is Alice? Part 2

  1. You’re… amazing, dude.

  2. that is hysterically funny! But only you my dear, only you!

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