"I was 'punished' by the military and they sent me to Germany. They didn't like me 'cause I was sort of a rabble-rouser, so they were like, 'Here's a contract between me and you': I show up, I work, you feed me three good meals, let me have a place to sleep, and so on. Basically, they were crapping on everybody--it was a miserable base to be on. And almost everybody was on one drug or another, and I would have to escape on my motorcycle to breathe fresh air in the mountains of California. So, since I was such a problem for them, they decided to ship me to Germany, and it turned out to be so great to hitchhike around, sleep in the vineyards, eat some of the best food in the world. Almost every small German city had one excellent restaurant in it. This was in '78 and '79. I would go to Munich during Oktoberfest, carve my name in the table at one of the breweries, which was a common thing. There were thousands of names. I would steal liter beer glasses to send to my friends; they thought they were pitchers. I said, 'No, this is what we drink *real* beer out of!' I hitchhiked to Luxembourg and France--I didn't even have to rent hotels. People would just take me into their homes off the street--kidnap me--and show me their American records and their Levi's jeans."
These are the stories of the people of Easton, PA