The time we me and Bill played against two gay skinheads at trivial pursuit in German.. and won.
Bill was convinced they were gay, but I wasn't so sure. Then again, the only questions they could answer were about Doris Day or Liberace. They didn't stand a chance against us though and we sealed the win getting a tricky question about Kurt Waldheim right.
The time Fuschl's local pornagraphic film-maker popped by, got outrageously drunk and insulted Americans for relying on credit cards.
Weird, weird night. The guy was a total asshole, telling everyone how he had traveled all over the world but thought the US was stupid because they had too many Mastercards. Apparently this was because he was unable to sell his smutty movies there. Highlight was when he yelled out a list of all the places he'd been: "I've been to Vancouver, San Francisco, Los Angeles..." then Werner (a mulletted Beisl regular) said, "I've been to St. Gilgen!"
The time we tried to ride a unicycle up and down the road outside.
Don't remember much from this night, whose unicycle it was or who suggested we have a go, but I do remember Bill being adamant he could do it. I think he managed about three pedal turns.
The time Bill did handstand pushups against the door.
More Bill. On this occasion, after being challenged by Ingrid, he proved his manliness to all by first doing one armed pushups, then jumpy-style pushups with claps in between. Finally, he pulled a handstand leaning against the door for balance, and did about three pushups, going quite red in the face in the process.
Any time that I won darts cricket with a full house.
Cleaning up on darts cricket is truly a satisfying experience. Though not the most prolific winner, during the spell between finishing my first beer and ordering a third I'm usually on fire. The tactics are simple: knock out the 19s, 17s, 16s and 15s first, load up on points then try and polish the rest of the board off. That 'thunk' when you hit the final bulls eye makes any evening out well worthwhile.
Our leaving do - unprecedented levels of loud drunkeness.
A packed pub, with regular faces and Beisl rookies alike, this was a great night. I wore Lederhosen, and felt suitably proud. The time capsule that is the Beisl was in full effect. Before we knew it, the funny little cuckoo clock thing in the corner peeped 4am, Natalie and Flo were yelling their heads off and Felix was dozing in the corner. Good times indeed, terrible times for many the next day.
A huge thanks to Martina, Beisl owner and bartender for the past five years, and possessor of the finest cockney London accent South of the English Channel. You couldn't ask for a better hangout and nobody pours a Stiegl like Martina. Since she too is moving on shortly, it really does feel like the end of an era. The place will not be the same without her.
If I've missed any epic nights out, leave a comment or mail me!
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