Runner up titles for this post included "Oops, I did it Again." And by "it," I mean, full German. I went full German. Again. This time in the Munich airport. At the Fürstenlounge. With the revolver. Just kidding. No revolver. It was the candlestick.
But it wasn't the fürst time. Clearly.
I went ahead and threw a filter on it, because it seemed appropriate.
So basically, right now I'm killing time until my 12:40 pm flight to Barcelona boards, and it will be way too late to even think about, let alone ingest (maybe still digest) a morsel of weißwurst. Probably one of the wurst possible things you could do. Yep, just killing time here at the good ole Fürstenlounge in the Flughafen München. Say that ten times fast.
Sorry. I'm a little punchy. And probably a little drunk. Well, not drunk, but after only a few hours of sleep, and half a pint of Franziskaner Weißbier, I'm definitely feeling it.
In Germany, they like to follow the rules, and I proudly pointed out to my server that I was indeed following. She seemed to care. Maybe only a little.
You will notice the 11:12 am local time stamp below, which is significant. Not because of my morning beer, but because of the weißwurst. Remember!!?
Okay, this harkens back to aught eight, when I was visiting my friend Kathrin in Schrobenhausen, and she taught me like I was a kindergartner "Once the clock strikes noon, you must no longer eat weißwurst." It was a very Mufasa-Simba type of interaction.
Weißwurst, btdubs, is a white German sausage that is eaten only for breakfast. I don't know what happens if you dare to eat weißwurst after the clock strikes noon. I don't think anyone has ever done it.
I'm gonna go ahead and sign off for now.
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