[this story is a bit anachronistic, but still good]
I don’t know why I thought taking the train to Munich for Oktoberfest was going to be boring. I brought some readings on Telecom ecosystems, a book I’ve been dog-earing one page at a time since August, and figured I’d read for four hours, then get a good 8 hours of sleep. I used to love taking trains as a child in the mother country; I loved falling asleep to the lulling beating of the wheels on the tracks. Since then, the trains have gotten smoother, and the rhythmic sound has virtually gone away. I was disappointed to find this out the last time I took an overnight train (Granada to Madrid in 2001). Regardless, I was excited for a good night’s sleep and some me-time.
Needless to say, I must have been delusional. The Oktoberfest train is sold out. The chick on the bunk next to me has 2″ long fake eyelashes, and 2″ long nails. Her name is Believe. She doesn’t seem like a typical Octoberfest goer, but maybe business is better in Munich over the weekend.
So, I’m talking to some guys from California and some French dudes. And we’re all drinking Pastis. Or rather, I’m holding my Pastis as far away from my nose as possible, lest the smell makes me throw up. The Cali kids have just graduated from college and are doing some poorly-coordinated trip around the world. As we talk, I realize that they think that I’m still in college, and one of the 21-year-olds might be hitting on me. I feel the need to set the record straight.
Me: “I’m older than I look”
Him: “Oh, how old are you?”
Me: “I’m 30″
I don’t know what possesses me to lie about my age (especially in the wrong direction).
Him: “Damn! Well… um… young at heart! Cheers!”
We clink our plastic cups.
