It has been a while since I blogged, so I thought I should at least give a quick update, seeing as how several things have happened in my life recently.
Deployments: My unit was not selected for the Louisiana mission. I was bummed, because I really wanted to go down there and do my part. However, after talking to some people down there, I am not so sure it is such a bad thing that we didn't go.
So last Monday, the 12th, Matt and I set out for Trinity Lake in California to hang out on a houseboat for four days with the
Stones. This is a huge tradition, and looked forward to all year long by most. This was going to be the first year going for both Matt and myself. So we set out at 7 a.m. on Monday totally stoked to have a badass time. About 180 miles into the trip, on the last grade on Interstate 5, just before Grants Pass, I was passing a truck when all of the sudden my car just free revved to about six thousand RPM's. That is bad. It settled down, unlike my adrenaline, and continued to drive without slipping in the higher gears. We decided to stop in G.P. to check the transmission fluid. We stopped at the first traffic light, and that was it for the car. Apparently, first and reverse are gone out of the trans. We parked the car at a Shell station and set out to find a solution to our MASSIVE problem. To make a long story short, (too late) we rented a car to drive back home, borrow a diesel pickup and car trailer form the Stones, to drive back down the following day and rescue my 3500 pound paper weight. The Stones, who are some of the greatest people you will ever meet, let us still come to the lake in their pickup so we could still hang out with them. Thanks guys.
Trinity: I had never been to this lake, or that part of California for that matter. The lake is huge, warm, and beautiful. Tyler picked us up at the dock, and our week (well, three days) was off. The houseboat was big and nice, there was more food and drinks than could be consumed by twice as many people in twice the time. It was amazing. I rode sea-dos for the first time ever, and only fell off three times. I also jumped into the lake from a high-ass cliff. It was scary and awesome. Needless to say, I am already looking forward to next year, and coming back to a rainy Oregon sucked spokes.
Oktoberfest: This is another first for me. Now, I know, as was pointed out to us several times by Matt, that the Oktoberfest in Mt. Angel doesn't hold a candle to the real one in Munich, Germany. Be that as it may, I had a blast. Several of us were at Ben's watching boxing on pay per view, and after it was over at like 9p.m. we made an impulse decision to head to the biergarten. After some wandering around, and drinking some skunky beer, we found ourselves in a larger hall with some live music. And some wacky people. We were standing around watching this guy play some bells, when we noticed a drunk guy. Now, to be called a drunk guy at this kind of thing, means you really have to be standing out. Drinking spilled beer off the concrete floor qualifies as drunk. This fruitcake the proceeded to dance around with a quarter in each hand like a little ballerina. It was hilarious. His crushed cowboy hat, sweaty T-Shirt, and warm-up style jogging pants really made the show. So we were all having a good time at his expense when I noticed an elderly gentleman eyeballing one of the girls we were with. She noticed it too, and moved away. A few minutes later the old guy moved around to her again. I decided to strike up a conversation with him, and that is when the insanity started. This old guy, we will call him Bill, was there alone, and drinking. He is a 10th mountain Division Vet, presumably from the Korean War. He started talking smack about the "fruitcake homo" dancing around, and calling the alcohol monitors "polizei". About that time, some confused gentleman wearing a kilt and a bunch of other Scottish garb walked by. Bill asked this guy why the hell he was wearing a dress at a German festival. His response was a lame, nerdy response about being from across the pond and checking out the sights. Bill called this guy a dipshit, and several other things. The Scotsman was at the bar facing away from us, and I had the idea that Bill should see if the guy was actually Scottish by checking under his Kilt. I offered a dollar for the task, and I had barely gotten the bill out of my wallet and Bill was springing into action. Sure enough, Bill hiked this guy's kilt, and got himself a face full of bare ass. We were rolling. About this time, the token booth had closed, and we only had one token left. It took four tokens to get a beer. Bill decided he could "Schmooze the fat girl at the bar" to give him another beer. We gave him our blessing and last token. Bill once again leapt into action for another beer. About this time, some retard decided to ask the two girls we were with to dance. I discouraged this action, by telling him to F-off, about four times. I then told him that he may have better luck trying to draw an overweight girl. He wandered off somewhat discouraged. Sure enough, Bill then came back with a free beer. What magic Bill had! We drank for a little while, then noticed that the guy from earlier was, indeed, dancing with a hefty gal and having a splendid time. We ran low on beer again, so Bill took matters into his own hands, and headed toward the beer counter. He placed a cup under the tap, waited for the opportune moment, and filled his own cup. He brought it back and gave it to us, then headed right back for another. After bringing that one back, we convinced him that the "polizei" was onto us. If they weren't, the girl who ratted us out for it certainly was. The place was shutting down, so our Designated Driver decided we should leave. As we walked past the crowd of dorks that ratted us out, the girl called me an asshole. I laughed a hearty laugh and kept walking. That was the end of Oktoberfest for me, but I can't wait until next year to go again. It was fun, and who knows, we just may see Bill again.
