It is now Sunday, and after another hardy night of excess (and another episode of drunk Anthony screaming that he needed to take a shower at 5:00 am), we get up relatively early to head out on a day trip. Destination: Innsbruck, Austria. The ride on the train is enjoyable once we set up camp in the surprisingly nice dining car. (It was a German train.) I had the best damn creamy leek soup in Europe.

At this point, Mike is showing signs of wear.

Morning has come, and we see a couple of gay boys in bed.

Sitting at a restaurant in Hungerburg, Austria, a town that overlooks Innsbruck. We went up the mountain there. The weather was rainy and generally crappy.

Kickin' it in H-burg on the West Siiiiide!

We are in the dining car on the way back to Munich. This was an Italian train and the food was piss-poor. I had better fettucine alfredo in the Dominican Republic. The waiter was like Roberto Begnigni without the charisma. When Anthony ordered a Heineken, the waiter tossed it to him with the six-pack ring still on it. When we sat at the booth, the guy took the table cloth (actually paper) and shook all the crumbs on the floor. Quite a difference from the German train.

It is night after a long rainy day in Austria. We are now in Munich. Before us is the Mecca of beer drinkers, the World Famous, Beer Soaked, Wooden Tabled Hofbrauhaus.

We now enter the Hofbrauhaus. Note the elegant mosaics, rivaling the work of any Italian Renaissance artist.

What trip to the Hofbrauhaus would be complete without a trip to the pissort. Notice the concave shape of the urinals, welcoming you in, yet the pilaster push you away. (Props to Jim Bitterman for noticing this architectural peculiarity 10 years ago.) By the way, the guys in the picture gave me a really dirty look after the flash went off. I can't imagine why.

What is this? It looks like sink, but there is no faucet. It is the same size as a toilet, but it is elevated. Well, it is an ergonomic marvel: the vomit sink! Gotta hand it to those anal Germans. They think of everything.

Seated at the table, Jen, tired after a hard day of mountaineering.

Now the camera's flash awakens Jennifer. Top model! Top model!

Portrait of the artist as a not so young man.

Me, Jen and Mike in the Hofbrau Haus.

The clock has struck midnight and I am now officially 30. The friendly German couples seated beside us surrounded my stein with flowers. In the lower right corner, notice the white bag of t-shirts meant to be gifts. Somehow I got drunk and left the shirts there. Surprisingly, they weren't turned in to the lost and found. So I had to make the same purchase. 3 t-shirts--90 dollars. What a bargain.

A close-up of my birthday beer.

Jennifer celebrating with the German couples.

A picture of me, Mike and some Aussies that I spoke about two words to.

Oh, yeah! A birthday kiss from an American chick! Her friend (uptight) wouldn't give me a kiss. She said she liked girls. I said I do too, what's the problem?

Cool. Two chicks kissing. You can see me in the background hugging my newfound German friends and birthday celebrants goodbye.

The gratuitous down-the-shirt shot of the girl in the yellow. She was a willing participant.

Some Austrian guys we met at the Hofbrauhaus and took to Café Shiller.

Me, the Austrian guys, and Jennifer.

Los Basquos de Espana. They knew people in Spain with my last name. I was so drunk that I was speaking Spanish but mixing it with German. Example: Yo tengo dreizig anos. For the life of me, I could not remember the Spanish word for "thirty."

Outside the Hofbrau Haus with the Austrian guys, on the way to Café Schiller. The guy on the left was nicknamed the "Pass Out King." He lived up to his name.

Location: Café Shiller. Jen with some anonymous German guy.

Awww, me and Jen.

Ladies and Gentlemen, the telos (natural end) of Oktoberfest: Vomit guy. Of course, the next night, we were standing at the same table, which I am sure was not properly disinfected.