"Get me the hell out of here..."

I don't like people.

Wait a minute, that's a little harsh. I like you fine. Depending on who you are, I might even love you. But strangers, particularly in crowds, drive me right 'round the bend.

We went to our first Kitchener Rangers game on Friday night. It was Eva's first live hockey game, period; I had all but ignored the major junior team in my hometown due to a persistent NHL snobbery.

The Rangers beat the Belleville Bulls, 5-4 in a shootout. The game itself was quite entertaining: fast-paced, with some highlight reel plays by both teams. It would have been a great game to watch...at home, on television.

In the Auditorium--

Well, okay. We were seated high in one corner, just in front of the only Belleville fans in the place. Their monot0nous chants of "BELLLLLLE-VILLLLLLLLE!" "BELLLLLLLLLLE-VILLLLLLLLLLLE!", repeated every couple of minutes, got mighty tiring, mighty fast. (One of the guys took to moaning, almost sexually, every time a Belleville player had the puck. I almost turned around and told him to come, already.)

But that was music to my ears compared to the bleating blatting of the stadium horn half an eardrum to our right. Once or twice a period, these things add colour to the game. Every stoppage in play, and it isn't long before you want to saunter over, rip the thing in half, and stuff each half up opposite ends of...

Sorry, I'm getting a little worked up.  

Friday night was the penultimate night of Oktoberfest here in Kitchener-Waterloo, Ontario. We have the largest Oktoberfest outside of Germany. Here's how our paper of record, the, uh, Record, describes it:

Today, in fact, Oktoberfest is the most important social event on the region's calendar. People in faraway locations in North America may not know much about Waterloo Region, but if they know only one thing it's probably that we celebrate Oktoberfest.

Oktoberfest is a wonderful festival and also a wonderful time of the year. Although rooted in Germanic tradition, the region's Oktoberfest has gone beyond that and has become an event in which people from all nations and cultures can participate. It is about good times, great friends, wonderful activities and, of course, about drinking a little beer as well.

"A little beer"? It practically runs like a river down every street in town.

The paid attendance that night was 6347--almost a full house. As we were leaving (halfway through the third period, to get away from the stadium horn, the perpetually pre-orgasmic Belleville fan, and to avoid the hellacious traffic jam), we found what seemed like at least 6347 people lined up to get in to the stadium.

"What the hell's this?" I asked Eva.

"Oktoberfest", she answered.

"Where?"

"The basement. The basement of this place is one big bar this time of year."

Humph. I learn something new every year. Now get me the hell out of here.

On our way to the car, we see a man blithely pissing away the night's first installment of beer in the parking lot and quicken our step a little. It was a great relief to get to the car. I kept flipping the radio between the Ranger game on 570 News and the Leaf game on AM900. The Rangers won their fifth in a row and the Leafs lost, par for the course.

We went home and I ordered a pizza from the pizzeria up the street. Fifteen minutes later, I walked up to collect my supper and was treated to a vivid 7-Eleven flashback. As I was paying, a couple of drunken "ladies" crashed in behind me and asked if it would be okay for them to wait inside for their cab, because "it's really, really, really (hic) cold outside". (About 5 degrees, it was--not much colder than it had been when they'd left their house, unless they'd been drinking since noon...which, I suppose, was possible.)  Somehow I just knew what I was going to find before I turned around: a couple of girls dressed for July, in miniskirts and short sleeves. I was correct in nearly every particular.

I just hadn't imagined the foot-tall green feather growing out of their heads, is all. Did they have any idea how ridiculous that looked? They probably did; I doubt they'd wear anything half so silly sober.

As I left, pizza in hand, one girl was hitting on the guy behind the counter, while the other was asking how long the place was open until. (Three in the morning...which is about how long they were going to be waiting for their cabs, if past Oktoberfests are any guide at all.) Ugh. Get me the hell out of here.

I don't like people and I hate what alcohol does to people. It's little wonder we take our holidays during Oktoberfest every year so we can...get me the hell out of here.