When I walked onto the fairgrounds of Oktoberfest I immediately felt a twinge of disappointment. (I mean, look at this sad picture.) 
Maybe it was the weather, maybe my expectations were too fantastical. I guess I was picturing something more like The Renaissance Festival – a dip into ye olde times with entertainers, vendor stalls galore and a little razzle dazzle? I didn’t even hear music. I later discovered all the magic was hidden inside the tents, but I’ll get to that soon!
I visited the Haus der Kunst right after checking into the Airbnb because I figured since I paid all this money (13€) for a day pass, I may as well do something besides going straight to day drinking. Y tambien arte! It was a good call; I liked the exhibit. Afterwards, I took a lovely, long walk in the rain through Hofgarten to get to the subway. An overcast garden was quite a perfect venue for artsy photo ops. I left the Holga and digital camera behind due to the weather, but, luckily, one is never without a camera these days. With no one to help me, I propped my cellphone up as best I could for a timer selfie. This was a good enough first try for me to move on and be silly with my umbrella further along the park.
Now then, I had one more pit stop before the festivities. Oktoberfest is a cash only spectacle and I needed to find a currency exchange store. There was a Ria a mere 12-minute walk from the park, but I wanted to make the most of that damn day pass. Joking aside, my right foot has been bothering me for the past few weeks, so I really didn’t want to have to walk any more than necessary.
I reached the subway and found the platform where the train I needed was sitting there doors open. I sprinted down the stairs and inside the car. Soon after, the doors shut. About 10 seconds later the doors opened. A few more people hopped on and the doors shut. About 10 seconds later the doors opened. The train played this song and dance about 5 more times before the driver of the U6 asked everyone to get off because of a problem. I stood there with the 100 other people needing to be somewhere wondering, if this train doesn’t move, then how will I catch the next U6…? I walked to the exit of the platform thinking it best to leave by foot afterall when I noticed a sign for a different train that I recalled Google noted as another option to get to Marienplatz. I walked to the next platform and got on a working train. It was the wrong train. I promptly got off at the next stop and was mostly fine with my error when I discovered a different Ria nearby… a 10-minute walk away. I walked my aching foot where Google said the Ria should be and in its vicinity was a giant, blocked off construction zone. I asked a barista in a coffeeshop around the corner from the construction site if he knew where the Ria was, but he didn’t. I couldn’t find the store back in the subway tunnel, either. I think the moral of this story is sometimes Google is wrong and it might be best to just walk for 12 minutes in the rain before you wind up wasting an hour on misdirection and malfunctioning trains.
A short time later I finally made it to Theresienwiese with euros ready to burn. I could tell right away what I was in for as I passed by patrons stumbling in my direction towards the subway station. I smiled at them. I don’t like being surrounded by drunk people (says the woman walking into Oktoberfest), but they are funny to watch. I walked onto the grounds, took my sad picture and found the first place that looked like a bar. It was a wine only bar – dafuuuq – I turned and left.
I intended to walk around the entirety of the park, but the first actual beer tent I walked up to I didn’t leave until the band stopped playing! 
From what I understand, only a section of the tables are reserved in advance while the rest are left vacant on a first come first serve basis. As a single, unthreatening, kind of hot woman wanting to go into a tent already at capacity, it wasn’t a problem entering. Imagine a giant hall of 2000 adults decorated in lederhosen shouting, laughing, drinking, stumbling in and out of their tables dancing to a live band while 50 waiters run around them serving beer. That’s what I walked into.
I soaked up the atmosphere walking around the main hall before flagging a waiter to ask if I can order a beer. One must be seated at a table to order. I felt overwhelmed and considered leaving with this new knowledge that meant I had to find a place to squeeze my fat ass somewhere just to get a drink. I gave it a go and asked a table of very good-looking dudes if they had any room. No, we’re all full, was the surprising response I got as they eyeballed me. Whether my penis wasn’t big enough for them or they’ve been fooled by pretty moochers before, I can’t say. 
The second table I asked to join welcomed me and the moment I had that seat everything about the evening was perfectly brilliant. I made friends with a bunch of locals and a couple of Finnish guys. I drank giant beers that tasted like pansy bitches, but were actually pretty fucking strong. I ate Käsespätzle. I danced with my new friends on our bench for hours. I made out with somebody. I rode a violent rollercoaster before leaving because it sounded like a good idea. (Drunk people, am I right?) I had the most amazing experience with only a slight hangover to endure the next day. It was so worth it, you guys.