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Oncoming pedestrian traffic bedecked in lederhosen and Bavarian folk dresses (Dirndl) tells us we are getting near the Weisn, or meadow, home of the Oktoberfest. Couples seem in decent shape, bigger groups more noisy, and an occasional individual staggering a bit.
Turning the corner, strains of music are caught; singing really, just general effervescence, like the foam on a liter stein, that the whole meadow exudes. A polizei is confiscating glassware from a couple of guys; no steins outside the arena apparently, even if they are empty. From the street, the bank slopes down steeply into the fairgrounds; a few figures are "taking it easy" on the bank. Behind trees and dumpsters, bladder relief is in progress.
Suddenly we are in the throng — of moving bodies banging into each other. It seems rough. Around the huge tents people buzz at the doors like bees trying to enter their hive. The huge tents are full, so are the beer gardens that surround them. Some people are going nuts, others seem almost dazed, sitting around with blissful expressions on their faces.
Eventually our pass gains us admission and we squeeze through the door of the Hacker-Pschorr tent. There's no room anywhere, people are still banging into us and watch out for the beerstein-laden frauleins, they'll knock you right over.
The first priority is to get a beer, even before we find the rest of our party. But the waitress says "Nein." We figure out that you need a seat to get served, but there are no seats. Every picnic table seat seems to be taken either by people standing on them, in the middle of the tent, or sitting on them around the perimeters.
We find a corner of a bench. The beer arrives. Ah, refreshing, Fest Pilsner at 6%. The beer helps us orientate ourselves and become adjusted to our surroundings. Armed with a stein, it seems easier to penetrate the throng as we traverse the tent in search of our cohorts whom we find after gaining access to the VIP balcony at the opposite end of the tent. We have a good view from here. The bandstand in the middle, churning out not oompah music but rock and roll and a few very American favorites - Frank Sinatra, John Denver, Bruce Springsteen.
Halfway through my second stein, it comes to me that Oktoberfest is a bad place to arrive sober...until you catch up that is. It doesn't seem rough and uninviting any more. The beer buffers the bumps. It feels like we're just a having a good time with a few friends - a few hundred thousand friends. This is what the Germans call Gemutlichkeit - good times - and the Muncheners are good at it. The steamy tent is packed - the biggest ones hold up to 8,000 people (adjoining beer gardens handle another 2,000).
Looking down from the balcony, there's a sea of people standing on the tables and benches. After a while, the balcony is too far away; it's time to descend to the mosh pit. Everyone's talking to each other, or rather, shouting - Italians, Swiss, German - Prooooooooooooooooost!! (the cheer is accompanied by a fist-shaking clash of glass, one reason they make the steins so thick). There's dancing; there's kissing.
The following night we partied in the Paulaner tent. This was October 3, a 17-year-old public holiday celebrating the tumbling of the Wall and the unification of Germany. This day, a record 650,000 people visited Oktoberfest. In its 16-day run, Oktoberfest hosted 6.3 million people; they drank 6.1 million liters of beer. Between them, Paulaner and Hacker-Pschorr sold about 52,000 50-liter kegs. That's a lot of beer but only an average 3-day sale for the combined breweries, or less than 1 percent of the annual sales. The percentage of sales is much higher for a smaller brewery such as Augustiner.
The most incredible part is probably the lack of trouble. Arrests are rare - fights virtually non-existent, just the casualties you might expect from excessive beer consumption. In addition to a lost person's tent, there is a tent where people who have passed out are taken; on waking, they are charged a fee. Contrary to popular perception, only 15 percent come from abroad. This is still a very traditional German celebration - despite the popularity of American music.
Our host, Marcus of the Paulaner brewery, had put in 12 nights at the fest. He said we, the Americans, were not the hardest group of visitors to handle. There are more than just six tents at the Weisn, although it is true only six breweries are represented - Hacker-Pschorr, Paulaner, Lowenbrau, Spaten, Hofbrau and Augustiner. And there are wine tents; even a fish tent for those who have grown tired of pig knuckle, oxen or roasted chicken. There's a roller coaster and many other side shows to tempt the family visit.
Incredibly, the mammoth tents are taken down and reconstructed every year. Preparations begin in July and clean up continues until the very end of November. The impact on the local economy is obviously considerable.
The waiters and waitresses have a tough job dealing with the crowds and the 11-hour shifts, but the money is very good. I spoke to a 17-year-old who said he makes 2,000 Euros a week working in the kitchen. The exchange rate during our visit was 1 Euro to 1.23 American dollar. The cost of a liter stein was 6.70 Euro or about $8.
In 1810 the wedding party King Max Joseph threw for Crown Prince Ludwig and his bride Princess Therese von Sachsen-Hildburghause, was so popular that the Muncheners asked for it every year. What would the king think if he attended the 170th edition of Oktoberfest. "Get a room!" most likely.
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