My dirndl waited patiently in the closet. The muscle between my thumb and pointer finger trained year long to hold countless liter beers in glass steins. We practiced our German numbers so we were prepared for the “Ein, Swei, Drei, G’Suffa” cheer.
The day finally arrived. This was it. The real McCoy.
Oktoberfest in Munich, Germany.
I arrived on Friday and met my German friend Ariane. I figured it would be a good idea to go with a veteran Oktoberfester. I had always imagined a bunch of big tents sitting on a giant lawn, but boy was I wrong. You walk into a crazy Carnival with games, rides, food, galore. The beer “tents” are amidst the carnival, but you can’t call them tents. They are buildings that permanently smell like beer.
I immediately ate a bratwurst and saw these decorated gingerbread cookies. They looked delicious so I bought myself one.
Mine said “Dream Girl”. I’ll let you in on a secret- they aren’t delicious and they aren’t for eating! I was quickly made fun of for eating the cookie, and I was also scolded for being so rude as to eat a present that someone bought me. I retorted, “I bought it for myself!” He gave me a strange look and stopped talking to me.
I later learned you are not supposed to buy them for yourself. They have sweet sayings on them, similar to Valentine’s, and you are supposed to gift them to a loved one to wear around their neck during Oktoberfest. How was I to know?
By day 2, I knew the ropes. We tried out a new tent, drank some Oktoberfest beer, and ate some Wiesnbrezn.
Next year, we have a Dunn family 60th birthday party at Oktoberfest. I think they will fit right into the ridiculousness.