Nice, long, packed-in flight to Münich. The guy next to me took one long look at me and decided to go find another seat in an empty row. Ha! Large man. Small seat. Suffer with me, Mr. Strange Guy From Bavaria.

I was on a Lufthansa flight, which has beautifully-designed materials, and a small army of beautifully-designed stewardesses bringing you warm hand towels and chow and were nice enough to wake me 42 minutes into “whatever sleep I was lucky enough to get” to offer, “Would you like some tea, ya?”

A third of a day later, we landed, I whipped through customs and on my way down the escalator to the baggageclaimestrasse, up walked Goo and David, who just came in from London. Bunch of goddamn jetsetters. It’s awesome being halfway around the world and walking up on yer buddies. I mean, I hate them all the time in Portland, but love them over here. Funny how this shit works.

We hopped the train over to the tradeshow, met up with Bob and Eli from Giro, got passes and made our way in.

I made it all day up to 5pm without dozing off, visiting with Martino from Italy, and Brad from Seattle, and Jonas from Sweden, and Chief from Burlington, and Runke from Fuckingradicalville, and other incorrigibles.

We got back to the room and I passed out right away, and that was all she wrote for four hours. Then I got up, grabbed a train station pretzel and hiked through the bitter cold night to find the group feasting at some italian joint in the center of town. I like walking through town. All the tight streets, weird döner kabab joints, casinos, internet call shoppes and whatever else lining the city streets. Lots to look at over here.