I got lost in a vacuum. Thankfully, it was the good kind of lost. For the better part of a month, I was in a whirlwind of German beer, party people, the S2 train, and rolling sleeping bags.
This was my most anticipated Workaway to date — an Oktoberfest with Festanation. I knew it was going to be camping for the entirety of the festival, but that was the only real information I had.
The majority of the volunteers arrived on a Sunday in the middle of September. It was a largely empty site at an old Olympic stadium/horse farm. The first day was all about icebreakers and orientation talk. There was something like 60 of us from 20 different countries. Everyone was preassigned a role and separated into a Camp 1 or Camp 2 faction.
The next day, the Camp 1 hooligans were shipped off to their temporary home and my Camp 2 fam began constructing the remainder of our drunken sanctuary. We had 3 intense days of setting up tents and teepees, building out a kitchen, and decorating and organizing to create some coziness.
While this phase was grueling at times, it gave everyone an opportunity to grow into a close crew. Especially when we finished for the day and the beers came out. We punished crate upon crate of €.29 Pilsner. Everyone quickly became pseudo-dependent on alcohol. It was like none of us could act normally without a few sips of something. But finally, we were ready for our first guests.
The first day of Oktoberfest, it was my responsibility to shepherd the guests in…even though I’d never done it before. Half of them immediately got on a train without me, so I guess that made things easier.
It was a beautiful day. All reports were that it would be impossible to find a table but we were able to snag one in the Biergarten at the Paulaner fest hall. After the mayor officially tapped the first keg at noon, the steins began flowing. It was a glorious thing to witness. The waiters and waitresses were carrying out 12 liters of beer at once. Insanity. I was with a group of fellow volunteers and the wheels came off the wagon relatively early. We kept losing each other amidst the crowd of other drunkards. We convened outside another tent and started snatching up abandoned beers next to the entrance. When I lost the group for the sixth time, I wandered around some more and decided to head back to camp.
Thus, the cycle had started.
Oktoberfest can be difficult to manage. I went in probably around 10 times. When you’re sober, it is significantly less fun! I couldn’t believe that parents were bringing their children there. When you’re there all day, it’s a proper test of drinking at the right pace. A liter of beer is a shit ton to start off with. But it’s also brewed at a higher percentage for the festival. The trouble is, “Ein Prosit” (drinking song), is played about every 5 minutes, so you’re continually pouring that sweet nectar down your gullet. Otherwise, you’ve got some jolly tablemates that want to cheers because everyone blinked. It’s continuous. And usually you forget to eat even though pretzels the size of a lion’s head pass by at a steady clip.
All that being said, it’s a hell of a time. Everybody is in positive spirits (because beer) and there’s rarely a place that you won’t make a fast friend. I saw more people being wheeled out on gurneys from extreme drunkenness than fights.
The most dangerous outings for me came when I got off of a late shift and went in for just two hours. By that time, the entire beer hall was standing on benches and singing along to classic tunes. The rate of consumption increased as the vividness of my memories decreased. There’s a reel or two missing, if you know what I mean.
A few days into the festival, I ran out of cellular data. At the camp, there was no WiFi, so I was feeling very disconnected from the rest of the world. Hence, the vacuum. The only world I knew was in front of me. Fellow volunteers. Taking the train. Drinking a stein. Standing on benches chatting with strangers. Eating eggs for breakfast. Spending an entire 7 hour shift cleaning and rolling sleeping bags. Repeat.
As an aside, some of the guests staying with us were heathens. I can’t even begin to describe the amount of vomit, piss, and sometimes shit we had to deal with during housekeeping shifts. “Shocking behavior!” as a fellow travel mate once said.
Back to the camp — tent life for a month is an unusual standard. First off, the bipolar German weather had us sweating during the day and absolutely freezing at night. Not to mention the amount of rain we had. Where do you hang your shower towel to dry when it’s pissing down? Second off, have you ever tried to stay organized when living inside a small plastic box for more than a week. I was losing shit left and right, which we know is uncharacteristic for my semi-OCD ass.
I still can’t believe how quickly the time evaporated. There were so many random, but amazing things that happened among the Festanation staff. Pranks on the regular. Virginity lost. Other hook ups. Wearing ridiculous outfits. Todd. Dancing to outlandish songs on repeat. Smuggling beverages. Turning a carrot into a trumpet. Stickers everywhere. Making fun of Flavio. Yes, that carrot thing really happened.
The overall event met, exceeded…disintegrated expectations? I don’t know. It ranks up there around incredibly unforgettable (except for the parts I forgot due to beer) on the scale of great experiences. The rag tag crew of people were an absolute riot. There’s one person, though, that I was lucky enough to really connect with throughout camp. Michelle stole me away. She is a positive, intelligent and creative person with an infectious laugh and an inescapable brightness. Plus, I don’t think she’s ever taken a bad photo. This is beyond any camp or festival fling. I’m starting to believe that sometimes you just know.
As the festival came to a close and our last guest checked out, the reality of what was next began to set in. The first few people left camp and it was depressing. Not only did we have to start tearing down everything we’d built and known for the past few weeks, but we also had to start saying goodbye. It really hit me when I saw the shop at the entrance that sold lederhosen and dirndls was completely empty. Also when they took our showers away and we still had 3 days of pack up left.
The camp 2 family went out for a last supper to celebrate the survival of Oktoberfest 2019. It wasn’t the whole group, but it was a quality time. We had an award ceremony and a final get smashed bash in what was left of the reception tent afterward.
The following day, people started to trickle out. Myself included. I went into Munich to spend one last night with Michelle.
Oh, yeah. Munich. I saw almost none of the city during the entire month. Remember that vacuum?
Anyway, the real goodbye was on a Friday morning. I got on a bus headed for Croatia. I crossed the border safely (which was good news for many reasons), and I wondered when I would see everyone next. Especially that special girl in Mexico.
Soon.
