I went out for a walk right after dinner on Halloween evening in the hope of stretching my legs prior to barricading two humans and three cats safely inside our house in preparation for the kids coming out to panhandle for sweets.
Because: Why wait for Christmas to indulge one’s inner Grinch?
Avoiding the children was easy, but their adults were more of a challenge. In mid-stroll, rounding the corner by the shotgun house masquerading as an end-times church, I bumped into my neighbor Bill.
He was decked out in Bavarian-standard Lederhosen, all straps, buttons, studs and fake leather, right down to the feather in a green Alpine hat and a Karo brand cigarette dangling from his lips.
“Gooden Tack,” Bill said. “I’d offer you a refreshing Warsteiner Festbier, but I didn’t want to risk drinking in public, so I’m just carrying the empty can around so I don’t look stupid.”
“Um, no worries there,” I replied. “But you’re late as hell. Oktoberfest ended a month ago.”
“I know that. I’m going to a Halloween party just as soon as I pick up some carry-out Schupfnudeln.”
He nudged me conspiratorially and whispered, “To be honest it’s linguine from the Spaghetti Shop, but sprinkle some Knorr goulash starter on top and we’ll be fine.”
Sighing loudly, I pulled out my badge.
Bill gasped. His Karo hit the sidewalk, and he clumsily slid the empty can into his pocket.
“It doesn’t work that way,” I said, wagging my finger as ominously as a bum shoulder allowed. “You’re only allowed to wear your Bavarian costume once each year. It’s the law.
“Now, if it were a Swiss or Thuringian ensemble, you’d be in compliance, and no one would know the difference, anyway.”
“I never knew you were a beer cop, Rog. You’re not taking me downtown, are you?”
“No. Just consider this a wake-up call. And there’s one more thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Stop talking about the ‘toasted notes’ in a Warsteiner Festbier. It’s really embarrassing.”
—
But seriously: Is it just me, or did every vape shop, pet groomer, insurance agent and oil change emporium in metropolitan Louisville conspire to stage Oktoberfest celebrations in 2022?
I’ll grant you that it wasn’t altogether surprising to see the suburbanites shimmying nervously atop the picnic tables under a rental tent in the parking lot of the Office Depot, hoisting their plastic liter glasses and mauling a motley selection of microwaved bratwurst, but what really surprised me this year was the sheer ubiquity...Read more
