Last Saturday, I experienced my very first taste of an Oktoberfest… celebration? Drinkebration? Boozebration?? You get my point.

We went to Tempe Town Lake (which is really more of a thirsty looking pit with some flies buzzing over stagnant puddles) with two of Mr. Aerobats friends, and drank the obligatory “Oktoberfest Brew Beer” and I officially ate my first brat with sauerkraut. Not as bad as I ever thought it would be.  But all I really wanted was one of those damn chicken stumps that look like the thigh of a Bedrock Dino-Chicken a la the Flintstones (ok they’re turkey drums, but Chicken Stump is a much more effective name when, as a two beer queer, you have reached your limit of German brews and your hunger is getting the best of you at a festival).  A festival where THEY DIDN’T EVEN HAVE ELEPHANT EARS, might I add!! Dumb Germans.

In an effort to continue the Boozebration, we headed up Mill Avenue, which is supposedly the hot spot for Arizonans looking to continue the Boozebration (on any given night, German festival notwithstanding) and HOOOO boy I haven’t seen that many freaks since my grandpa and dad took me to Key West when I was 18 and that guy with 16 nipple rings (on two nipples, he wasn’t THAT freaky) walked across a burning tight rope while coaching his girlfriend through a water-birth in a feeding trough right there in Mallory Square.

The good news is, thanks to Oktoberfest and Mill Avenue, I can officially cross ‘Listen to an African American Flautist Play Eagles Covers Dressed in Skin Tight Head to Toe Camouflage’ off my bucket list. And thank goodness, because I knew that would be a hard one to check off.