Oktoberfest: Augustiner Festhalle & The Old Wiesn

Friday 2nd October – Augustiner Festhalle & The Old Wiesn

I have said about this day: “The most I have, and probably will ever, drink in my life”

In the morning, disaster struck! I discovered that I had a blowout in my lederhosen: one of my back buttons that holds the braces had fallen off. It was mainly due to the leather piece that holds the button having its stitching too close to the edge. The sewing holes split to the edge and then combined with the stresses of partying hard, split all the way through. We were heading out to Trachten Rausch to get Gemma and Patto fitted out so I took my lederhosen with me for a possible repair visit. Unfortunately, they could not repair it in the shop as a more “industrial” sized needle/solution was needed. After Gemma and Patto got fitted out we went down the road to a recommended repair place, but on the door was a “Be back at 1pm” sign. Well hell no, we’d want to be well under way by that time!

We returned home and got changed into our traditional wares. I fashioned an anchor/button out of two paperclips and we were on our merry way.

We got to the Wies’n in the early afternoon, but already prospects were looking scarce. We did a walk through of Hackerfestzelt and there was no way we were getting a seat anywhere – especially for four people. It was very difficult even just walking a lap around the inside of the tent, with big crowds going in every direction. We did a similar journey through Ochsenbratereiwith the same result. It was now I realised there is only one tent where we might have a chance at getting a seat: Augustiner-Festhalle. I prefaced the strategy announcement to the group with the following statement: “Yes, it is the old farts tent but it is probably the only chance we have at getting a seat, and the beer is the cheapest and best you can get here”. With that we rolled into the tent with ease, the doorways and entrances were free of the fuss found in other tents. Inside though, it look just as packed as the other tents. We stood in the middle of the tent and discussed options. At that moment the ladies spied a group that had just moved out and that seats were not being snapped up – it looked so good to be true that we almost didn’t believe it at first. So, we snagged the available table as quick as politely possible and were having our first Maß within minutes. We were joined by a group of people from Cologne and a couple from Melbourne. It always amazes me that you can be on the other side of the world and still run into some Australians from just down the road.

After the first round we ordered food. Sarah and I felt proud when helping everyone on the table decode the German menus. I had run myself into the ground on traditional German fare, so I got some crumbed Atlantic fish and sides. Others got the Hax’n (knuckle of pork) and Hendl (roast chicken) which are great accompaniments to beer (the Germans know what they are doing).  The traditional music played on and the next rounds of beer flowed. The atmosphere was quite traditional feeling and relaxed, but it was really warm inside the tent. We speculated as to whether this was a business strategy to get more beer consumed. We talked with our Cologne friends who were also down to see the FC Bayern vs Dortmund match coming up on the weekend. Naturally, they said that Dortmund was going to smash Bayern and talked them up. Sarah and I said “No way!”. It was all fun and friendly. I think he later admitted, after a few more beers, that he was not so confident that they would win.

Unfortunately, around this time some seedy things started happening. Someone stopped in the walkway and took a phone picture of the girl from the Melbourne couple. The other girls were being intermittently grabbed on the ass by some very drunk and seedy Italians that they were seated back to back with. Sarah turned around and yelled “Don’t fucking touch me!” and thumped one of them in the back multiple times. We then swapped sides so it wouldn’t be a problem. When they later got up they looked glazed as fuck and I wouldn’t be surprised if they were also on drugs.

The table we were on was booked for a 5:00pm sitting, so we had to make ourselves scarce. We left and waded through the monumental crowds waiting outside the tent, who were stacked ten deep looking for just for a chance to get in. Liking the taste of the Augustiner, I suggested we head over to the “secret biergarten” to continue the session. Wirtshaus am Bavariapark is about 100m behind the Oktoberfest grounds and offers a real German biergarten experience without the crowds and inflated prices. Even though it’s so close, not many people know about it. When we arrived we saw that they were selling the Oktoberfestbier and I saw one staffer rolling out the next barrel. The prices there were about 20% less.  A roaming traditional band showed up and played “Ein Prosit” about 20 times amongst other staples, so it was practically identical to the Oktoberfest experience anyway – just without all the shitty bits! The drinks rolled on and the day turned to night.

We headed back into Oktoberfest and walked around the grounds. At this point, I think Gemma and Patto left and we headed over the Old Wiesn (the traditional/old school section of Oktoberfest) as I was drawn to a building with a lit up ‘MOTODROM’ written on the outside. I figured we could show our new friends what I presumed was the “motorbike barrel-of-death” type show inside. Things obviously start getting more blurry from this point due to the quantities of beer consumed throughout the day. We paid the small entrance fee to get into the Old Wiesn and I completely forgot about the Motorama.

We headed over to the Festzelt Tradition tent and went inside. The didn’t appear to be any free tables, but I do remember making a bee line for the toilets. Perhaps we diverted from the Motorama plan due to seeking relief! It was very busy inside the tent and even had a traditional dance floor area in the middle of the tent. I was much too inebriated to process it all, and for me, it was like one of those scenes you see in TV/movies where the camera is a POV shot spinning around a crowded room, interspersed with cuts of an overwhelmed protagonist (see Mobstacle Course). We bailed out of that tent and ended up queued outside the other tent in the Old Wiesn: Herzkasperl Festzelt. I think we were driven there by the fact that we could see Impala Ray (a newly found favourite band who played around Munich). A staffer appeared in the doorway and proclaimed she could seat some people. I let her know we had four people, she accepted and then took us to a table.

A final Maß of Hacker Pschoor out of the traditional stone stein was probably not needed, but I was determined to see what happened after Maß number five. We enjoyed the tunes of Impala Ray and I headed to the dance floor to dance with the crowd. When the set had finished, I returned to the table to regroup and removed my braces, which had come away from their makeshift paperclip button. We continued chatting and drinking at the table and stayed to close (I think).

It’s a complete blur from here on and somehow I later got separated from the group. I went to Hackerbrücke station to catch the train home. I had a text from Sarah, but I was unable to focus the text – I’d never been this drunk before! I waited around for a while, but couldn’t find any of my group. I assumed that they had already all gone home.

I was back home when I got an angry call from Sarah. I then went back to Hackerbrücke to bring her home (I had the group train ticket). She berated the shit out of me as we traveled home on the train. When we got back to the apartment I realised that I had left my keys inside and had to ring our doorbell to get Gemma and Patto to let us in. Our doorbell seemed to be cross-wired with the apartment below us, as we often got each others rings and visitors. This had led to some confusion over our stay, but possibly not as much confusion as our neighbour experienced with our incessant late night bell ringing. I think Gemma heard some commotion and managed to get on the intercom and allow us up.

I collapsed in a heap and don’t even remember my body hitting the bed.