Sometimes a bowl of goulash is just a bowl of goulash

A few years ago, the alpine village of Leavenworth was laced up in their liederhosen, swinging steins around like German nationalists in celebration of (solidarity with?) Oktoberfest. But times have changed.

We didn’t have any goulash in Leavenworth this weekend. The village let us down by being overrun with sexist youths from Eastern Washington… not that we experienced any sexism, I’m just judging by the way they were dressed. And for a place that advertises its Oktoberfest all over Western Washington, they sure didn’t seem welcoming – on the opening Friday night, the restaurants were closed by 10:30, the beer garden stopped admitting people at 11:00, and all the bars – except the very most terrifying – were closed from about 11:30 on.

As tradition dictates, we were going to get drunk then sleep three in the back of the Explorer (waking up dehydrated and gasping for oxygen), but we were too sober for that on Friday. So sober, in fact, that we drove home that night.

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