But then I see that there is some sort of parade happening in the central square (pictured below). And booths. Why are there people drinking at these booths? What ever could be going on?
I find an information booth. I pick a pamphlet. Oh-Fucking-Hell. It's Beer Weekend in Brussels! There is so much Belgian Beer EVERYWHERE that my feeble human mind can barely comprehend the sheer beauty of such a site. A smile emerges that goes from ear to ear. I am so happy, I can barely speak. Needless to say, it was time to go to work.
I met some great people at this event. Below is a picture of me and Simon. Simon has been to beer festivals all around the world, including several in good ole California. I comment that I am also a fan of the Rogue Beer, which is prominently displayed on his shirt. We are instant friends.
So much crazy shit went down that night, it would take me too long to write about all of it. Let's just say when you drink like a madman at Belgian Beer Weekend, drunken shenanigans ensue. I love Brussels.
