The one story you want to hear

I have a million stories from my European vacation, and they will all be included on this blog in overlong, mindnumbing detail, like a Dave Eggers book.

But I know you are only interested in one story. You think it's the story of how I was literally within testicles-kicking distance of Robert "Does Anybody Remember Laughter?" Plant. But it's not (even though I was, and I've got the out-of-focus, "that could be anyone" pictures to prove it).

The story you want to hear is how I enraged a whole village of Bavarians by starting a small riot while dancing on stage. As you all know, I'm not a fighter. But more than that, I'm not a dancer in a classical sense. I'm more of a bumper and grinder, per se. More of a get down on the ground and fuck the floor kind of dancer.

The fight was all just a slight misunderstanding. I got called onto the stage to participate in a traditional dance at a schnitzel-and-beer festival. Just as I started to figure out the moves, I thought one of the other dancers got a little rough with me. I still feel I was right to be pissed, but I may have overreacted. It all went downhill from there.

You be the judge.