One Shitload of Beer

Just a few minutes ago Rich and I were trying to reckon the number of beers that we drank last night. They serve beers at Oktoberfest in one liter glasses and there is no smaller size. We estimate that each liter contained about three bottles of beer. And then multiplied by the number of those glasses we drank we came to the conclusion that we drank One Shitload of Beer. That is a unit of the English measuring system, I believe.

Munich has proven to be as wonderful and exciting as my other German destinations. I simply cannot say enough good things about the residents of this country. Everything just works here. The trains run on time, lines are short and fast. Customer service is efficient and friendly and people are more likely to hug you then punch you after consuming said Shitload.

We’ve now spent two nights at Oktoberfest which is nothing like we expected. From the outside, it is a carnival like everyone sees at their state fair. Multicolored whirling lights attached to the rides and popular music assault your senses. Carnies call to you in German to get you to try their unwinnable games. Fried food with generous amounts of sugar provide that sweet, fatty smell of a donut shop nearly everywhere. But interspersed through this circus are the beer tents.

Each tent is sponsered by a particular brewer and supplies only their version of the Oktoberfest beer. Thousands of revelrous people are packed into the tent singing traditional songs and clanking these tub-like glasses together. They’re standing on their benches, hugging strangers, and forcing everyone to drink at a fast pace. And of course we are right there with them.

Since we don’t know any of the words to these songs we usually make up our own. The Germans that understand us usually laugh themselves silly at our ad hoc lyrics. And the other running joke in our group (two Aussies have joined Rich and I) is that these raucous, alcohol-fueled, nationalistic events really do stir up some pride for the Fatherland. So much so that we want to invade someone. So every now and again one of us yells out, “After this beer, Poland!”

This hostel has proven to be as exciting as some of my other cities. I am glad that Rich got to experience this once so he could get a glimpse of the decadent lifestyle of hostel guests. This type of fun is not available elsewhere and it is in places like this and people like these that have made this the trip of a lifetime for me. And Munich is proving to be a perfect ending to this story.