Madridian Mishaps and Misadventures in the Kapital City: Wake Forest Does Oktoberfest

Stereotypical Oktoberfest blog post?  Standard for Wake students abroad.  This past weekend was spent in Munich, Germany, grazing with friends in the tent of the Hofbrahaus. When I first told the upperclassmen that I would be going abroad, their first reaction was jealousy, but their second was “OMG you HAVE to go to Oktoberfest.” Oktoberfest is not something noobs should attempt. You can tell who knows what to do and who is just following suit.

Wake Forest runs O-Fest. But really. When the German security guards, who were (duh) yelling at us in German, tried to herd us into the upstairs section, we revolted because anyone who has ever heard about or attended Oktoberfest knows that the real party is downstairs. So, since we are so obviously not noobs, we ran downstairs and snuck past the security guards and entered the downstairs section. I’m still in awe that we made it, especially with the way that the Germans were manhandling others who tried to do the same thing. Once we were downstairs, it was Deacon central. The reunions were joyous and the friends were plentiful.

I was extremely impressed with the biceps of the beer maidens who had an eff-off attitude for anyone who got in their way. These chicas would carry ten steins at a time without breaking a sweat. Wearing unflattering and uncomfortable lederhosen and being surrounded by drunks who are continuously spilling beer all over the place does not appeal to me and thus, the life of a beer maiden is not my future.

This weekend was by far the most expensive of my semester. The disgusting hotel that we booked was able to charge us 250 euros a night, just because they knew our desperation to experience this German cultural phenomenon known as Oktoberfest.  The hotel was surrounded by strip clubs and places to buy gold, ‘nuff said. We had initially booked the room in the hopes of fitting five people in to cut costs as much as possible. The staff was onto us from the beginning. They chided us in broken English, and I feared for my life each time I entered and exited the hotel. Finally, we realized that we would have to get a different room to avoid being homeless that night because we were on the verge of being kicked out of this hotel. We traveled the street and looked for any open room at a variety of questionable hotels. The only hotel with available rooms had one single room for a whopping 190 euros a night. It was our last hope. We had no choice. Booked.

The rest of the night was spent frolicking around Munich, but on the way back to the hotel my friend Chelsea and I came up with a plan to get two of us into one room once we got back to the hotel.  (We were the martyrs who were supposed to be sleeping in the single, smoking rooms).  Our drunken selves decided to pretend to be lesbians as we entered the hotel because we figured that was the only way we could have the single room become a double.  After running in to the hotel and racing to the elevator, we believed we were safe from the receptionist. WRONG. He chased us to the elevator and stood in the doorway so there was no way we could escape. We pulled the lesbian card and he said he would give us ten minutes. Ten minutes is not enough for true love. So, naturally, the only thing to do would be to hide under the bed in case he came upstairs. Sure enough, ten minutes later the phone rang and I heard an angry, masculine German voice. Chelsea pulled the lover card, pleading the man to let us enjoy our first vacation as a couple and, 40 euros later, I was allowed to stay. Winning. The morning after walk of shame to the front desk was awkward to say the least.

Overall, the weekend of Oktoberfest is sloppy, cultural and enriching all at the same time. Kind of like a frat party.