Finding Accommodation in Munich............belatedly




After passing customs control at Munich's International Airport our visit to the tourist information centre had proved mostly infertile. We'd been offered a choice of five star accommodations that would totally back-door our budget but late September in Munich, beggars can't be choosers.

Based primarily on its proximity and my inability to even scratch we'd settled on the Airport's own Kempinski Hotel. I arrived at reception atop our backpacks on a trolley pushed by the Kid.

The Kempinski sported an atrium bar housed beneath a glut of contemporary chrome and glass and a dozen twenty-five foot palms that must have been questioning what the fuck they were doing inside a German Flughafen.

'1986. European Vacation. Chevy Chase. Most memorable scene?' I asked the Kid in dizzy staccato, sipping something called a Tahoe Tomakaze whilst ripping 720's on my black and chrome swivel stool.

'Considering our locale and the reason we're here, your obvious need for a bit of carnival knowledge and the fact we've had this very same discussion at least half a dozen times before Doddo, I'm going with the Oktoberfest scene. Where Rusty gets to sample those exquisitely nubile German ta-tas.' the Kid replied, admiring his Jack and Coke like an Italian might a well proportioned blonde in a cherry-red Ferrari.
'Yeah, until Clark goes and fucks things up by swinging hay makers at a bunch of intoxicated Germans dancing in tight leather shorts.' I paused in an attempt to disguise my drunkenness and enthusiasm.
'I'd be like, yeah sorry Dad, catch ya in Cologne, I got some serious fun bags on the go here.'
'It's not every day a ginger minger gets to have a go at a fine European rack like that.'
'Damn straight beyatch!'

I stood up to take a piss but went careering into a palm tree after following a ninety-degree arc to the right. It was around about then that we decided it might be time to call it a night.


Well, that's all she wrote - for the time being at least. If you enjoyed my little tale it's worth checking back from time to time as occasionally, very occasionally, I do add a chapter or three. If you're really bored take a look at some of these that I prepared earlier:

If you want to drop me a line please do so at - love the mail, love the mail! You can read a sort of a bio here. If you had a bit of a laugh during your visit please consider clicking on the stumble it button to the left or just bookmark us for the next time you've got to book some cheap accommodation in Europe or sommit. Alternatively, if you're reading this in an office, scream "THE BOURBON MAKES ME DO IT!" three times at the top of your lungs whilst slapping your ass with a ruler. That makes me happy. Anyway, enough from me, thanks a heap for dropping by.


« back to part 45 |  go back to the start 


From mangy stray to financial fat cat - one man, one site, one aim, one million, five years!



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