Munich, Germany

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After two previous Oktoberfests in a row (1, 2) the wheels came off. I was in Munich for four nights this year — and it turned out to be long enough. Long enough to replace a disappeared pair of lederhosen that seemed to have walked away sometime during the past year (really I think the hardened exoskeleton of chicken grease, potato salad in absence of napkins and hand washing afforded to them this ability); in their place a darker, tighter, more rigid and less-flattering pair and take on Reid in leather. It started out innocent enough; Martin cooked us a traditional Bavarian breakfast in the fraternity house (I take pride in having been a guest here four times). But after that things went down hill pretty fast. My mobile phone committed mobilecide from the apex of a most maniacal, twisty, spinning carnival ride. The presumably shattered body nor SIM card were ever recovered — may they rest in pieces. Subsequently without access to Google Maps I didn’t trust myself to navigate...