Unfortunately, there was only one thing he could bring back from the wonderful future... and though he didn't want to... nevertheless he did....
ead Augustinerbräu. Somehow we'd evidently navigated from one tent to another.
Arth was saying, "Where's your hotel?"
That seemed like a good question. I thought about it for a while. Finally I said, "Haven't got one. Town's jam packed. Left my bag at the Bahnhof. I don't think we'll ever make it, Arth. How many we got to go?"
"Lost track," Arth said. "You can come home with me."
We drank to that and the fog rolled in again.
When the fog rolled out, it was daylight. Bright, glaring, awful daylight. I was sprawled, complete with clothes, on one of twin beds. On the other bed, also completely clothed, was Arth.
That sun was too much. I stumbled up from the bed, staggered to the window and fumbled around for a blind or curtain. There was none.
Behind me a voice said in horror, "Who ... how ... oh, Wodo, where'd you come from?"
I got a quick impression, looking out the window, that the Germans were certainly the most modern, futuristic people i
An aging rich man hires a detective to track down time travelers from the future and get him the secret of immortality--which they should have by then. And the obvious place to look for such time travelers was Munich, during the Oktoberfest.
A fairly funny story.
A little silly and cute, but ok.
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