God, these Canadians are polite. Must be the lithium they put in the beer.
On the Toronto to Stuttgart flight, they tried to indoctrinate us in Canadian ways.
For breakfast we were served poutine, those little sugary candies shaped like maple leaves, and beer. No coffee, just beer. No water, just beer.
Then they made us walk up and down the airplane aisle for exercise. I must have walked 15 miles and spilled a quart of beer with all the sloshing from the turbulence.
The flight attendant said, “We are just oatside of Stuttgart, we should be landing in aboat ten minutes. Please finish your beers, eh?”
Holy shit, are these German women beefy! Our airport redcap Helga lifted my steamer trunk over her head and flung it to Ava, who threw in into the cab trunk as if it was a Kleenex box.
Then they just carried all the old folks to the cab like they were Barbie and Ken dolls.
We got to where we were staying and they had prepared a light lunch, consisting of braten Sie Rindfleisch, Kartoffeln, Kohl, Schweinefleischbraten, Schinken, Brot, Kï¿½se, Mehlklï¿½ï¿½e, Wurst, Salat, Wienerschnitzel, Kuchen und Apfel Streudel. And beer.
The old folks passed out after lunch. I practiced my German future tense verbs with Shatzi, their little Dachshund.