Dear Oktoberfest: I wish I remembered more of you.
I am a seasoned beer drinker. I’ve been seasoned, however, to drink Scottish beer over the last year – my favorite being Belhaven Best, which weighs in just under 4%. German beer, at 5.2% in giant steins = trouble for Aasa.
We took the coach from London to Munich, overnight, and arrived early in the morning, had breakfast, and got to the beer hall. I had one stein outside, quickly ordered a second, and by midway through my third it was clear I had to be taken back to the campsite. I woke up in my tent and looked at my watch – 5:30. It took me a second to process whether that meant morning or evening. Yes! Afternoon! I called Jase, who had generously seen me back to the tent in the first place, and met up with him back at Beerfest. That’s when I got to see what it’s all about: the band playing and the standing on tables and the singing and the (probably less common) limbo.
It is the best party ever. Each beer has its own hall, that holds about 6,000 people – on Saturday we went mid-afternoon and couldn’t get in anywhere: they’d locked the doors because every one was full. We took the chance to go on some rides, drink some Jager shots from kiosks, and then go back to the campsite for some leisurely drinking games.
Screw Disneyland. Oktoberfest is the happiest place on Earth.