Friday, October 10, 2008

Germany needs an intervention...

So, a couple of weeks ago I went to Oktoberfest up in Snowbird. It's taken me this long to properly wrap my head around the whole concept in order to write about it. Attending Oktoberfest every year is apparently a Hanosek family tradition that I had escaped in the past, but this year there was no getting out of it. I tried to imagine why someone would attend who doesn't drink or own a pair of leiderhosen, but I gave up and just went. Plus Charlie told me there was lots of German chocolate cake, so hey, I was in.

We left out home on a crisp autumn afternoon, and Charlie warned me that I would have to eat Bratwurst and saurkraut before I could have chocolate cake. Then he wouldn't turn the car around...sadist. So we arrived. Mia was excited when she learned that we got to take a shuttle bus from where we finally parked our car up to the party. I was still excited about the chocolate cake. Charlie was just excited to be ummm...out. We wandered through the booths and hoards of beer swigging, leiderhosen clad partiers until Charlie's mom and brother's showed up to teach us the proper way to "oktoberfest".

Apparently you have to sit right next to the speakers when the polka bands are playing. If you don't have accordian music bleeding out your ears for the next week you didn't do it properly. Secondly you have to dance with whatever crazy old german lady wanders past your table and grabs your arm. I escaped this fate by claiming that my daughter needed me to do something (the music was loud, I'm not sure she was even speaking english to me). But a brother in law or two got caught in the old ladies german frenzy, and like a good mother, my mother in law laughed and got pictures of them. It warmed my heart.

Then the bratwurst showed up. Gross. I took a bite, and then I smelled the saurkraut and ran to find the crazy old polka lady to put me out of my misery. I hid behind a crowd of drunk college guys until everyone had eaten and then showed up magically in time for desert. The cake was totally worth it.

Now, cake aside, this isn't an activity I would recommend to many people. Especially if you are the sober type. I'm sure it is much more enjoyable when you are drunk, kind of like walking the strip in Vegas. Or maybe if you have a secret yearning to wear a german wench dress or leiderhosen and a Von Trapp hat. I guess there aren't too many outlets for that crowd.

2 comments:

Christy Marshall said...

you could have gotten drunk and enjoyed the party that way! Why didn't I get some of that cake?!

Kirk said...

The "wench dress" you refer to is called a Dirndl, and the plethora of ladies wearing them is what keeps me going back every year. That, and it's a gorgeous motorcycle ride up the canyon with all the changing leaves to get there. I never get a brat because I'm never willing to stand in the line. One of the Hanoseks will have to tell me how you can get them to bring it to you...

-Kirk