Saturday--Oktoberfest

It began with me taking a 3 hour train ride down to Maastricht, where Brad lives. Stupidly, I had gone out the night before, and got only five or so hours of sleep. After a lazy afternoon visiting his dorm and some of the city, we headed to the train station to catch our train to Koln, Germany. In our one bag (my backpack) we had a bag of oranges, 6 bananas, 6 energy drinks and a bottle of wine along with our leftover kebabs from dinner. We arrived in Koln around nine, and our night train to Munich didn’t arrive until eleven. I suggested we go outside and stroll around. As soon as we walked out the door, we were literally stunned to see a massive Cathedral staring us in the face, no more than a hundred yards away. Easily, one of the biggest churches I have ever seen, it towered above us, its intricate carvings and decorations disappearing into the dark, cloudy sky. To help us ease our way into sleep later on the hard train seats, we popped open the wine as Brad explained all the wine-tasting techniques he had accumulated in just a few short weeks in Europe. Finally our train arrived, and we settled in for a long ride into the heart of Bavaria and Germany. A few winks later, we rolled into Munich, approximately seven local time. Way too early for anything, especially a day of drinking, I thought. A ominous sheet of clouds covered us from above and I found it hard not to yawn as we trekked to the fairgrounds where the Oktoberfest Festival is held. Brad had met an Aussie on the train, and he joined us on our walk. His name was John, and he was a short but stocky ginger a few years older than us, who like so many, was tramping his way across Europe without a place to stay for the night or a care in the world. His accent was so thick that when he mumbled, it took a second or two for me to translate it. He worked on the oil rigs off Britain generally, using his time off to travel. But that didn’t stop him from settling down whenever and wherever he felt a calling, whether it be at a bar or because of some girl he had met.
We entered the grounds and a whole carnival awaited. Nothing was running yet, but that didn’t mean that there weren’t people already preparing for the day. We walked down the row of tents (which are actually huge “warehouse-size” buildings filled with tables) and found one of the most popular. About three hundred people were crowded outside the tent’s doors. Like a rock concert, more people smashed us into the mob from behind, until one could barely move a arm. Of course there was still an hour until the day officially began and so we waited, knowing we would be rewarded with a spot in one of the most coveted places at Oktoberfest. A steady drizzle dampened my spirits, but it was hard not to be excited. About nine, a group of people directly in front of us broke apart from the main crowd and began dashing around the building. Brad and I looked at each other and without a word sprinted right behind them. Navigating our way through obstacles and puddles, we circled around and found people jamming their way into the side door. We followed and came into the space inside, about the length and width of a football field. Everything was lit up and neatly decorated, with picnic-style tables crammed against each other in every spare space possible. There was a moment of pure madness where we desperately looked for some free seats. Everyone was practically clawing at each other to find one for themselves and their buddies. Luckily we shimmied our way into an ideal table, right next to a group of high school-looking kids. John had gotten lost in the commotion, and I jumped up onto the table to search for him. Amazingly I spotted him on the complete opposite side, and Brad and I screamed and waved our arms at him. Almost as soon as he sat down, a woman plopped down full liter beers for the whole table. It was so fucking early, but the beer tasted amazing: huge foamy head, no real carbonation, and full in taste. I said a secret prayer to God to help me live through the day, and the drinking commenced.
Once the second liter of beer had arrived, we were all starting to shake off the early morning cobwebs. The guys next to us were all 18-year-old Germans from Munich (how sweet would that be!), just about to graduate. They, like every other European, had a great laugh about the American drinking age, but I teased them right back, telling them I had been driving for almost six years. Every one of them was hilarious and they enjoyed asking questions about America just as much as I enjoyed asking them about their lives. On our other side, a group in their thirties asked if they could sit down, and so we all squeezed in, socializing and toasting anytime anything good or funny whatsoever was said. Every few minutes a chant or song would start in one corner of the tent, and pretty soon the whole place was screaming it, banging on the tables or standing up on their seats. Then everyone would yell “HEEEYY” and cheers everyone within arm’s length.
Eventually we decided to move on, especially because John had disappeared on a beer run. We came to another tent, but the line was already so long that it was virtually impossible to get in. So we sat down at one of the outside tables. We were meeting people from everywhere, and the conversation was getting increasingly drunk and belligerent. An Italian girl and her friends sat next to us and no doubt fueled by alcohol we began a long series of flirting and kindergarten fighting. She was very aggressive and really wouldn’t stop putting her hands on me. We laughed, messed around and playfully kissed each other on the cheek several times. Another half beer later we kissed for real, and Brad, ever the opportunist, snapped a picture. To this day, I have no idea where she vanished to, but hopefully I’ll remember her if I see her again.
There were quite a few Americans there, mostly in the military. I don’t think we realized that we were actually at Oktoberfest, something that all of us used to day dream about. One mousy guy was really excited, and for good reason. He had met a girl and taken her to the parking lot, where he put his “lucky rubber” to good use, haha. Others weren’t getting so lucky, and security had to carry out a few people on stretchers. This didn’t stop everyone else from having a good time. I was an idiot and in my drunken stupor completely forgot to take pictures like I should have.
Around this time (I don’t remember when or how) Brad and I got separated. What I do know, however, is that the next thing I recall is waking up underneath a tree in the early evening. Thank God nobody messed with me. Finding Brad was a complete lost cause, so I headed inside a nearby tent. I really was not feeling my best, and sat down on the ground near the entrance. I must’ve fallen asleep again because I was rudely awoken by two policeman “escorting” me out of the building. I quickly mumbled something about meeting my friend in a couple of minutes and they let me go. I power walked it away from them and found a new place to chill. It was almost time to head back for the train station so I coasted until then in order to find my train in a coherent manner. Everything went well, and I found a worried Brad there, glad to see that I was alive. He bought me a cup of coffee and we boarded our night train back to Koln. But our little weekend adventure was not quite over just yet…