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Another Train Station at Dawnby Charlie
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I don't know how many hours we drank or how many beers or much of anything else. I do remember the Augustiner tent, though. It was like Raging Bull, or some other film rendition of a Philadelphia civic center circa 1946 filled with smoke and hollers and sweat and booze, and dudes.
But the characters were many. The ancient Italian beer pilgrim for whom nothing had been the same since '52. The washed-up Bavarian rock star for whom nothing had been the same since his version of Rocky Mountain High topped the regional charts in '89. They were all our best friends though, through thick and thin, 'til they put up the stools and threw us to the night.
Good thing Kev didn't put me on that ferris wheel. 'Cause I didn't make it halfway back to Jim's before I blew my guts all over the sidewalk of some very beautiful church somewhere on the something-strasse. |
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