I watched as the small girl's eyes rolled back in her head and she passed out standing up. The tent was too crowded for her to fall left, right, or face-forward, so gravity did its job and she fell backward, knocking over ten people at the closest four tables. It was in this moment that I realized I had to get out of Munich or the Oktoberfest would kill me.
Oktoberfest, stated plainly, is this most incredible thing I have ever witnessed; incredible not always being a positive thing. Imagine six million people trying to cram themselves into twelve tents that can hold a few thousand. Imagine the drunkest you've ever been, next to thousands who have had more to drink than you have. Imagine the fattest man you have ever seen, wearing the shortest shorts you have ever seen, waving a thick, heavy glass beer stein near you head whilst belting out one of Germany's oldest drinking songs. Imagine chaos.
If you look closely, you might even see a girl in the middle wearing a blue checkered dirndl (the traditional German dress). She is standing on a bench that seats six with fifteen people, toasting and singing and dancing with the rest. Her dreadlocks reach halfway down her back now and she is smacking a few people in the face with them as she dances. They don't seem to notice, the energy in the tent is all they can feel. The rhythm, the heartbeat, the central pulse pushes forward, faster and higher, beating the beat of life into every core, until nothing makes sense any longer. Then suddenly, without warning the music stops. The girl's eyes snap back into focus, she raises her glass, holding a litre of the best beer in the world, bellows "PROST!!!" and smashes it into her neighbors glass. The madness continues from there.
All together I did five days at Oktoberfest. At the end I thought I was dying because my liver was trying to kick its way out from the inside. The memories however, I would not trade for anything. I loved standing at a table with other Americans, Canadians, Irish, Germans, Chinese, and Spanish people. I love that I met half of Italy in one afternoon. I love the different cultures, languages, people from all walks of life brought together with the common goal of drinking beer and having a good time. I love that at one point I was concerned about contracting lederhosen poisoning, a highly dangerous malady concerning short leather shorts and suspenders. I love all the best friends I made and forgot in the span of minutes, and the old friends I was fortunate to meet up with. Thank you Martin who let me stay at his place, thank you Jordan and Mara for the dirndls and the beginning, thank you to Crazy Irish John, Mark and Krasna for the end, thank you Vicky and her lovely mother Tina who let me drink water on the fifth night while they drank beer, and thank you to Pete who talked to the death rattle coming out of my throat every morning and didn't laugh too much. I wouldn't have made it without you guys.
My goal for Oktoberfest was to do it right, do it well, and then never do it again. Mission accomplished: nothing on Earth could drag me back there again. Yet I am proud to have survived an exhilarating experience.
