Ein Prosit

When I was a kid, many things would get me excited.... toys, ho-ho's, sports, snow days, girls, beaches, lakes, streams, big sandwiches, waterslides, sunshine, ice cream...

In reviewing this list, it appears that all of the things that used to get excited about, I still do. But there is one thing that is an adult addition:

Beer.

Oktoberfest, for someone who loves beer, is like Valhalla. It's a hoppy happy place; a phantasmagoria of fermented goodness. I almost wondered if it would disappoint me when I actually arrived. It did not.

My jaw dropped immediately upon entering my first tent. Thousands of people filled the place with the din of revelry. Singing. Drinking. Swaying in unison, stumbling solo. Colorful streamers hung languidly from the rafters. A raised platform housed a fun-loving and active band, playing everything from traditional German classics to Frank Sinatra. My mouth got dry, my hands clammy. My eyes were wide in wonderland amazement, head thrown back to take it all in. I breathed a 'whoa' in puckish glee, and my liver held its breath.

As with so many of my other favorite events, the common denominator here (along with steady and copious and admittedly irresponsible consumption) was smiling. People throughout each tent (we went to 4 of them), were in various states of happiness: the muted grin of a true Oktoberfest pro enjoying the moments they look forward to all year, the beaming stupor of a novice and every mirthful shade between. I love it when a place and time is flooded with fun like that. Does the heart good.

Shortly after I arrived, I heard for the first time the theme song of Oktoberfest:

"Ein Prosit, Ein Prosit, Der Germutlich-keit!"

I looked around, and everyone was singing it. You might not recognize it without the umlauts, but it is essentially a song about how happy everyone is to be together and cozy. A bunch of happy drunks, too blitzed to sing any song that requires the utterance of double-digit lyrics. I loved it. I'm going to check iTunes to see if there's a dance remix.

I got my first beer--the signature one liter "mass"that is the staple of this event. It was like a taste bud carnival, and the guys that work at the carnivals are all angels who are drunk. Admittedly, that doesn't make any sense--so, suffice it to say that I was going to have a lot of this stuff and enjoy every blessed sip.

And I did. I had a little over 6 masses (the majority at a table at the Lowenbrau tent with new friends Marcel and Hans, who collectively have over 50 years of Oktoberfest experience). For those of you keeping score at home, that rounds out to about a gallon and a half of high-alcohol beer. The results of such blinding excess (or the ones I saw fit to post) are in evidence on this page.

The person you see here screamed lyrics to songs he didn't know. He slow-danced to 'Johnny Be Good' with a 60-year old Dutch woman, and tried to carry on a conversation with her despite the fact that she didn't speak English. He got up on benches, stumbled in streets and got gloriously, starkly drunk.

I will be making room on my ever-growing list--somewhere between ice cream and waterslides--for Munich's Oktoberfest.