At least it kept me warm

This long weekend I found myself a bit with cabin fever up until the last minute where I actually found something interesting to work a project on, but then I was dragged to the Germany vs Portugal soccer match.

My friend and I went to a Portuguese bar, ran by Portuguese people, where they serve imported Super Bock Portuguese beer and the place was donned with Portuguese colours.

Now you might say there is a but coming in? Sure, there was... The Germans had bigger butts than anyone else there. Anyway, before I explain why I say that (not because I am sulking over that Portugal lost, I don't follow Football that much really...) let me first explain one or two other things.

Firstly... Portuguese men are short (and hairy... Look at the arms!... and your imagination might suggest that their mustache fights a war every morning to grow out against the razor blade) and the German folk... well they were just bigger and rounder. Hence the big butts comment.
(but actually because there was a very large older German Feldwebel sitting diagonally from me!)

I'm jumping the gun (boom!) but let me explain something else first... again.
There were NO seats available but the owner of the bar said that if some people do not arrive for their reserved seats, we could sit there and eat. So actually a few didn't show up.

We got two seats. Germans on the left, German supporters on the right. Left Right Left Right! Hoo-hah!
And we were sitting with Portuguese scarfs around our necks...

Germany scored the first goal and the other half of the room was quiet. Portuguese are so negative and pessimistic when it comes to their team they support. They say bad things until their team scores and then they cheer again as if nothing is wrong. However, they did not score again the rest of the night, so they drank a lot.
My friend basically (and not consciously) drank 4 beers. Basically one beer per German GOOAAL.

And what was up with this guy called Pepe. You DO NOT put your head against another guy in a game of soccer, especially if he is sitting on the ground clutching his jaw as if it broke.
Obviously he got a red card and was sent off the field (and probably off to the gas chamber)

I ate my steak, ate a chocolate brownie and drank a beer. Collar popped up to cover the scarf (only because I feared being stabbed by another German's steak knife) but at least it kept me warm that night.