Adventure_Monkey The stories here are past adventures I've been on.

Jubilation and beer flowed through my body in equal proportions and I could tell my new-found friends felt the same way as we thrust our heavy steins together for the umpteenth time.  Beer spilled everywhere but it didn’t matter. We were standing in an oasis of merriment, joined to celebrate life!  

On October 12th 1810 Price Ludwig married Princess Therese of Saxony-Hildburghausen in Munich, Germany, and held a grand festival to celebrate the union.  It was the excitement of the horse races at this celebration that persuaded the Munich locals to continue the festival in subsequent years.  A quick thought about those trend-setting horses smeared a smile across my face as I took a moment to embrace my surroundings.  The festival has taken on a vastly different form since it’s inception in 1810 and is now commonly called Oktoberfest!  Before I get carried away with details about my euphoria, let me back up and share with you, my story     

Oktoberfest is one of the most well known and commendably embracing celebrations in the world.   As luck would have it, I found myself standing in the Munich train station preparing to join in the festivities, ideas of what the fest had in store for me running wild through my mind.  An overnight train ride from Paris put me there at around 7am.  My first sight to behold was a group of teens running through the station decked out in traditional German lederhosen.  “I’ve got to get some of those!” My long-time friend Jake and I uttered the words simultaneously as we both stared wide-eyed and straight ahead.  The desire for lederhosen became a mission.   Jake and I spent a substantial portion of that day darting from store to store looking for the perfect pair of suede shorts and suspenders; which of course, meant the cheapest.  We were disheartened to discover that the average price of an outfit was in the 200-250 Euro range.  However, we remained diligent and patient, which wasn’t easy considering the state of excitement gripping all of Munich at that point.  Stripping down to underwear among the crowds of packed stores, we sifted through and modeled what felt like hundreds of wares before stumbling upon a slightly less expensive used lederhosen shop.  For 100 Euros I purchased a pair of green, grease stained shorts, two sizes too big for me.  My suspenders held up the bulky, uncomfortable bottoms and I looked much more like a deadbeat clown than a traditional German.  Yes, I think I can safely say they were the perfect pair.  

It was a hot day and by this time the sweat was soaking through my shirt.  Crowds engulfed most of downtown Munich, which made the heat seem worse, but it didn’t matter.  I was having a ball shopping for my lederhosen!  A pair of knee high socks, a linen shirt, and an orange handkerchief completed my particular costume.   Jake went with a pair of three-quarter pants looking equally stained and delightfully ancient.  Observing ourselves in the mirror, hands on hips, chests pushed out, I remember hoping that the Germans would not take our costumes as an insult …… two stupid Americans making a mockery of their sacred festival.  

After our four hour lederhosen escapade, we made a quick stop to check into our hotel.  As fate would have it, we ran into our good friend George, who was living in Bologna, Italy at the time.  He was standing at the front desk asking for Jake (Barry).  I remember hearing the response from the concierge and laughing.  “Well, we do have a Dr. Barry checked in.”  For some reason, Jake had given his name simply as “Dr. Barry” when we checked in.  Don’t ask me why because I don’t have an answer.  He certainly doesn’t have a PHD of any sort.

After a short reunion we refocused our thoughts on what was important, and that was getting to the fest as quickly as possible.  On the crowded train ride there was a particularly friendly (drunk) old German man eager to help me properly tie my handkerchief around my neck.  I was a bit nervous letting his shaky hands get so close to my throat.  His reddened, glazed over eyes were trying to looking in every direction at once.  Luckily, no harm was done and we arrived at the festivities just in time for the drinking.  I have to say my first feeling was one of disappointment.  The place looked like a county fair from back home.  There were rides for children, carnival games, and large stuffed animals floating through the crowds.  I was expecting red-faced Germans, singing folk songs while spilling beer over tables made of ancient oak.  It wasn’t until we found our way into the beer tents that we discovered what we had been looking for.  

An entire cow roasting on a spit was first to greet me.  It sat adjacent to the hundreds of chickens spinning on a rotisserie.  The open interior of the tent was packed to the teeth with what must have been more than two thousand people.  The tables were hidden beneath a mass of bodies sitting, standing, dancing, swaying on every inch of their beer soaked surfaces.  I was in heaven along with so many others who had arrived to share this blissful feeling with me!  Pushing our way through the mayhem, I felt a harsh thud between my shoulder blades followed by the pleasant feeling of a quickly soaking shirt.  I instinctively turned in the confusion and was faced by a woman standing a good two inches taller than me, wearing a low cut German dress, and holding more glass mugs than I thought humanly possible.  She quickly pushed her way around me and I was barely noticed.  She barreled through the crowd in a way that was so practiced, it appeared graceful.  Jake and I saw this as a golden opportunity and ducked behind her in order to navigate the swarm more easily.  She was like a plow and people in her way were a freshly laid patch of light, fluffy snow.  

We eventually found a small section of delightfully sticky benches to sit on.  Little time was wasted and we secured our beers in a jiffy.  A sense of accomplishment engulfed us as we raised our glasses in triumph.  After surviving the gauntlet of lederhosen shopping, drunken Germans, and hefty beer wenches, we finally had the chance to take pleasure in what any respectable person comes to Oktoberfest to do…… drink beer!  

As this lifeblood flowed through us, and on the table in front of us, we were all swept away in the excitement felt by each and every person in attendance.  The band, raised on a platform in the center of the tent played an amusing mix of music, from traditional German drinking songs to “Take Me Home, Country Road.”  After the same song played twelve to thirteen times in succession we usually picked up on the lyrics and joined in with the screaming masses.  An unbelievable aura of contentment gripped the entire place. Neither frown nor spark of anger was to be seen.  It was like we were all long lost friends finally coming together after years apart, and having a celebration of epic proportions to rejoice in our reunion.  

Some time later – unknown to anyone for all I could tell – Jake and I took our beers and cracking voices elsewhere.  Needless to say, at this point we were feeling a tad dizzy and of course lost each other among the increasingly crowding streets.  This, at the time, did not seem like a large dilemma to me and I moved on without missing a beat,   befriending what must have been over a hundred other joyous visitors from around the globe.  It was effortless to let the welcoming aura of the place sink down deep.  Oktoberfest is the type of celebration that makes a person feel glad to be human.  I navigated the mob for another couple of hours, spending a few minutes with each group or individual, sharing a drink, a story, and a laugh.  Tired, dizzy, and particularly satisfied, I made the decision to head back to the hotel.  This was our rendezvous point in case we were to lose each other.  

I made it about one hundred meters away from the hotel when I heard a voice yell from across the street, “Hey, where are you going in that silly outfit?!”  I turned to see a group of Americans we had met earlier that day.  They were from New York and on a particularly intense mission to maximize their time in Munich.  They were headed downtown for some more drinks and I blissfully joined them.  Finding my friend seemed to take a back seat for the moment.  The theme of succumbing to a “no worries” state of mind appeared to be encompassing everyone’s thoughts.  I decided to surrender as well and just “go with the flow.”  A fun night out in the city among the stunning buildings of downtown Munich was what it took to finally tire me out.  I wandered back to the hotel, walked into the dark room and crashed the moment my face hit the pillow.  

It wasn’t until the next morning that I realized Jake had not come home.  As I milled over what to do in my foggy head, there was a knock at the door.  Looking through the peephole, I saw the disheveled visage of my friend staring blankly.  Opening the door, there was a good ten second pause as we looked, expressionless, at each other as if to ask, “What the hell happened yesterday?”  I nearly cracked a laugh as I took in this funny scene.  It was about 11am; we were both still wearing our beloved, oversized, beer-soaked lederhosen and not smelling much better than we looked.  Jake broke the silence, “Should we go see what’s happening at the fest?”

“Yup!” I answered without even letting him finish the sentence.  I stepped out into the hallway, closed the door behind me and off we went.  This time we knew exactly what awaited us …… an ongoing, ever-joyous celebration building bridges across social and cultural barriers; a place where everyone is truly glad to see you.