Why This Is A Pretty Great Oktoberfest Photo

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1. Tent – these kinds of events are best held outdoors, especially when the leaves are turning and with inordinate amounts of drinking going on.

2. Polka band – the moment I took this photo two accordions and a tenor saxophone were jamming. The band made polka look very, very cool. They were incredible! See the clarinet next to the other saxophone off to the side?

3. Liederhosen – does anyone else find the attire pretty sexy? Shorts and suspenders? Buttons and clasps? No one? Think about it, people.

4. Western European girl with very rosy cheeks and perfect little highlights – she came to have a great time, and she looks successful.

5. Steins of bier as big as one’s head – can someone explain the size of that beer receptacle? Also, you can’t see how the woman is holding it, which makes me think the ‘fest is haunted. Wouldn’t that make sense? Up at Bear Mountain? Beginning of autumn? Secluded area with a lot of drunk people? Why wouldn’t the ghosts want to come out and play and hold people’s frothy mugs while they polka and puke?

I had a brat with sauerkraut and onions that day. The perfect nip chilled the air under overcast skies. I watched my friends Lisa and Jason waltz and polka; we went on a hike; we watched kids on the haunted carousel, round and round, round and round.  ROUND and ROUND … Then we took the Metro North home and I finished getting ready for my own going away party. I have pictures of that as well. Oktoberfest, indeed.

Saturday Morning

There’s quiet in the city, and then there’s quiet in suburbia.

The city seems to sleep out of necessity. It sets an alarm and bounds out the door with a coffee  (diet Coke) and a bagel.

Suburbia wakes up whenever. Not that some people don’t get an early start. I mean, I had the choice as my body sprang awake nearly an hour before my alarm went off. I couldn’t go back to sleep. I didn’t want to.

The air conditioning is on. The fan from my laptop whirs, and that is all I hear. White noise. I guess I’m supposed to go back to sleep.

Weekends are as sacred here as I held them to be in the city.  It seems people celebrate them a little differently. And I guess that has nothing to do with geography as one’s desire when to roll out of bed.

I had intended to be running right about now.  I like my mornings a little busy, and the exercise does help clear my head.

But it also seems I like my weekend mornings a little lazy. Quiet, contemplative. In pajamas until at least noon.

I won’t go running. My legs are sore, so maybe I’ll just stretch and be lazy some more until it’s time to get hopping.

I’m not sure when that time will be. I’m very much enjoying the quiet.