So we had gone to the Augustinier Biergarten that night, in search of...well, what you would expect. Beer. Given the outrageous drinking age in America, I was eager to drink for the first time. Well, legally, anyway.
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| The Viktualienmarkt, where the produce is cheap because rent is cheap...favors the Mom-and-Pop shops over fast food joints |
In keeping with my recent bout of rebellion, I texted my mother: "Going out drinking lol". To my disappointment, her response was: "OK". But I didn't let her obvious lack of concern for my nighttime activities (what fun is teenage rebellion when nobody cares?) dampen my enthusiasm.
It was a lovely, warm evening as we descended into the Sendlinger Tor station, emerged at some other, and walked to where the beer was good and the food cheap. Unlike such establishments back home, the biergarten was welcoming, unassuming in its warmth. Children sat with their parents, or ran about at play. People of all ages mingled, and here and there wisps of cigarette smoke wove smoothly through the air, around people's heads. It was a place of drinking, but nobody was very obnoxiously drunk. There was nothing sloppy about it, or anyone partaking in it.
I think that the relaxed attitude regarding drinking over there is healthier than ours here. There's nothing taboo or defiant about it, so there's no need to overdo it. Apparently it is the trademark of young American tourists to binge-drink over there, to make up for lost time, I suppose you could call it. It's not a big deal to them, and children grow up watching their elders drink responsibly.
If the old cemetery is the first thing I think of when I think of Munich, the Augustinier Biergarten is the first I think of when I think of the quintessential beer garden. The floor was one of white pebbles, which apparently is the preferred ground cover in Munich. It was the same as it was in the Alter Südfriedhof, which perhaps is why my exhausted brain bothered to remember it.
My father had a rather lax approach toward alcohol himself, so it was hardly the first time I'd tasted beer. That being the case, I had taken it for granted, and never truly believed that it was something that could make me drunk. Having sampled Mao Tai amongst several Chinese brandies and wines, I underestimated the German brew.
Kindly recall the state my body was in: sleep deprived and low on fuel. I went and ordered myself a whole liter of Augustinier Edelstoff. That's pretty potent stuff, you know. If you didn't know, you must now realize it. Another funny quirk is that they stop serving half liters after 5 pm, and obviously I wasn't going to miss out on an opportunity to immerse myself in the culture.
Halfway through I knew I was drunk. I never even felt buzzed. You know, I always thought that I'd be a classier drunk. This, unfortunately, was not the case. My table- two chaperones and a classmate- had a good laugh at me.
It was the strangest feeling, because I felt that I was faking and that all the swaying was voluntary. I was convinced that I was doing it all for attention, putting on a show to be funny. Then when I went to stop myself, I couldn't. My speech wasn't slurred noticeably, but boy did I have a hard time walking back to our hotel.
Good times, eh?
And in case you were curious, that was the best beer I'd ever tasted. At that point, anyway, because I had a half liter of Weiss a few days later. Edelstoff is typically sweeter than most other beers, which effectively masks how much stronger it is. It's got this bright, brassy ring to it somehow, like you're drinking something sunny. Yes, that's a good way to put it. It's a sunny drink.
So, as you'd expect, I had some trouble unlocking my door and navigating my room. My roommate was asleep and I didn't want to wake her. Naturally, that meant I promptly banged into the wall, and fell atop my suitcase. Yes, I woke her up. Yes, she was amused.
It was an amusing night.
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