sagesex

I had lived in Munich for about five years. Yet my intellectual arrogance had always kept me away from what the locals call the Wies’n – Oktoberfest. Here’s how I rediscovered the world’s premium celebration of European drinking culture, including the secret to finding new friends and drinking for free, and a truly embarassing sex story featuring the most original Wies’n souvenir ever.

I was only driving through Munich, and had an evening to spend. So I visited a few old stomping grounds and made plans for the night. The theater season had not yet begun, so I was thinking about going to the cinema. It had not even occured to me that Oktoberfest was holding the city in its grip, until I bought some condoms in a drug store. The guy in front of me in the queue pointed at the preservative package on the conveyor belt, and, smirking, asked nothing but “Wies’n?”. I smiled and declined, but knew in this moment that maybe it was time to give this a try.

The gods must have looked favorably at my undertaking, for I was given the grace of an extremely close and cheap parking place. Cautiously I started making my way into what I had formerly believed to be primitive, commercial, and just plain dumb. And almost immediately I began to dig it! Every girl there was wearing a Dirndl, and you could really see the joy on their faces, being allowed to be women, free from the pressure of unisex jeans attire so common in Europe today. People were eating, drinking and laughing in the huge streets, making out in the corners, and losing all kinds of bodily fluids in the surrounding meadows. A celebration of the primal needs of the human body and mind. And that was before I entered any tents!

Now as everybody who once partook in this spectacle knows, the whole Oktoberfest, with all its huge attractions and stalls and carrousels is just decor for the real action, which takes place in the beer tents. Huge tents filled with benches where you have to reserve months in advance, bringing a big group of people, to then drink large amounts of beer from 1 liter glasses called Maß, singing along popular favorites with the band while standing on the benches till you drop. It is quite a spectacle when you walk in alone, just watching people getting pissed. Yet in the beginning, I found it a little hard to connect, given that I could not even get a seat, and with this, no beer either (this is just brought by the most daring, strong, and rich waitresses in the world to patrons who can claim a seat, much like an address in the rest of the world). But no five minutes in, the first horribly drunken Italians saluted me for my T-Shirt which said “Va fan culo”. I changed the tent a few times, every time just getting more and more relaxed, which is all you really have to do. Just be there, tune into the mood, and let the drunk people approach you.

Now I still had no beer in my hand. How to go about it? One obvious technique, recently introduced to me by some girl friends of my youngest brother, is simply stealing it. People are truly drunk and nobody knows which glass is his anyway. While ruminating karmic objections and checking out which table looked most drunk and least aggressive, as well as thinking about the possible illnesses one might incur using this technique (beware of karma, again), a more elegant and social technique occured to me (grace, again!): There is no legit way to buy a beer if you don’t belong to a sitting group. So, why not ask?

In the next tent, two Maltese girls where having so much fun that one of them just high-fived every guy coming along. After she had missed my hand three times, I just asked her how I could get a beer in here. Bingo! She just got me a random glass from her table, and there I was, celebrating with Maltese, Australian, and a pseudo Irish guy who told me he just upholds this persona because it works fine with the girls. When I was finished, I simply subtly mentioned the fact, and people freely refilled my glass from their own. In fact, people have more than enough beer on Oktoberfest. They are glad to share!

Things got even funnier, and I got even more opportunity to practice loving-kindness in the next tent, where just when I got in, a guy offered me to share his snuff. This is a Bavarian tradition that I really dig. You really just have to go with the flow. It goes without mentioning that this guy was rather loaded, too, which lead to him spilling quite a bit of his snuff onto another dude walking by. All friendly, of course, if a bit uncoordinated, but this wasn’t one of the more relaxed dudes. To cut a long story short, I stayed as a peacekeeper and got introduced to the guy’s peer group. Next thing you know, I urge him to finally kiss the girl that had been waiting for this all night long, and free her of her beer while they share a rapturous embrace.

On a side note, I really like the way the bands play at the Oktoberfest. It’s a wild mixture of traditional, Schlager, rock and pop hits, performed in front of the most grateful audience imaginable – all drunk, standing on their seats, and singing along while the band sits smugly on a highly raised stand. In short, I want to play the Wies’n! I plan to assemble a band, find out how to get into this secret society, and move the crowd next year. If you happen to have some connections, want to be part of my band, or know something that might help us, please let me know!

You see it can all be fun and dandy at the Wies’n, everybody gets what they want … everybody? Well, maybe not: Girls are advised to stay with their groups because the groping and uncoordinated pickup moves can become quite a harassment, I’m told. Now you might think, what’s wrong with that – everybody likes to get laid, don’t they? Right, but here’s a girl’s story who took the chance: She brought home some loaded stranger right from the Wies’n. Unfortunately, there are some downsides to alcohol, so this guy actually managed to fall asleep while she gave him head. Not a comfortable situation to be in, I reckon, so she left him there and slept in another room. When she awoke, the guy had left, taking with him what must be the most original Wies’n souvenir ever, a note saying: “You fell asleep when I gave you a blow job. Please leave when you wake up.”

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