Gemütlichkeit

The German-American Fest is in the neighborhood this weekend. It's 9:00pm on Sunday night and I can still hear strains of Ein Prosit and covers from songs popular in the 50s and 60s as I sit in our living room.

Our neighborhood – Lincoln Square – has been German for a very long time. The Chamber of Commerce here holds a May Fest every May, and a German American Fest every September. Dave and I often traveled up to this neighborhood from the old place on the el in order to attend these Fests. Now we are lucky enough to live just a block away – which means no PortoPotties for us!

The weather has been beautiful this weekend. We headed out to the Fest Friday night after Dave got home from work. The crowd was tremendous, the lines were enormous. We waited in line for about 20 minutes to get our tickets to buy Wurst und Bier. Then we tried to get to the Wurst und Bier. Wow was it crowded.

We successfully traded our tickets emblazoned with German and US flags for two Thüringer sausages – veal, my favorite. We quickly pumped some excellent mustard on the sausages and downed them pretty much where we stood. Then the hunt for beer began.

Those of you who know the love of my life know that his size is advantageous when trying to maneuver through crowds. He is great at clearing a path and is easy to spot above the masses. Before we enter crowded places I always check to see which baseball hat Dave is wearing so I can spot him. Perhaps due to our purported "equal relationship" (I throw that one around a lot), I ended up walking point as we began to reconnoiter the beer.

Does that make sense? Send the 5'5" person out in front to divide the Red Sea and have the 6' guy (on the button, by the way – I made him take off his shoes and flatten down his hair once to prove it) follow in the human wake. Right.

So that didn't work. I stopped at one point when I was trapped by lines of people to buy tickets that had converged with lines of people trying to get into a tent that had been pitched over a parking lot that served beer. I questioned our plan of attack.

When we finally got inside it was chaos. German-music-fueled chaos. Dave got us each a 32-ounce plastic mug of Beck's Oktoberfest. The mugs are classic – they have pictures of Generals Washington and von Steuben over German and American flags on them. Not only is the von Steuben picture horrible, but I'm not even sure von Steuben ever saw the black, red, gold of today's German flag. I love them.

We found a spot to stand away from the major currents of traffic – next to a stinking sewer grate. Dave and I are both big people watchers – German oom-pahs, German beer, and a stinking sewer grate that has a bit of a slope and some water settled around it made for super people watching. We enjoyed watching young people and old people alike. People in costume and people in great t-shirts (All American, Made From German Parts). There is a German-American police office organization -- they all have shirts and jackets with their logo on them. The logo borders on, hmmmm, not tasteful? We saw one old guy who had a metal helmet on with a big eagle on the front and the spike on the top. Excellent. A vendor was selling wreaths of silk flowers with ribbons to trail down your back so that even the trixies could be Deutsch for a day.

Dave and I were able to settle in between some tables and swing along in time to the music. Our favorite band was playing – we have no idea who they are, but they are at all of these events. One of the band members plays cowbells?! You have not enjoyed Edelweis until you hear it played by an old guy in Lederhosen grabbing differently-sized cowbells from a huge table and shaking out the melody.

There was a group of young men in front of us who were enjoying the entertainment of an old guy wearing a captain's hat dancing with any woman he could get close to. I thought it was funny that this group of young guys were dogging the old guy. The old guy got a lot closer to a lot more females than they did. Oh, and he ended up polka-ing with a folding chair when the female population waned. I have finally witnessed first-hand the power and benefit of cell phones that have cameras on them.

But the kids were alright – they had purchased more beers than their college-trained stomachs could handle and therefore spread the wealth. Somehow, people started introducing themselves to us. I think different groups at the tables thought that we were with them, a friend of a friend kind of thing. One of the young college men started our interaction by leaning over and screaming in my general direction, "So are you from the homeland?"

The college kids seemed to enjoy singing (every traditional and stereotype German song there is) and drinking with Dave. I realized that although they all had some connection to the "homeland," and all recently been there, they did not have much German beyond "ein Prosit," "oy oy oy," and "who the hell is Alice?" All of them were quite beschwipst and bordering on blau by the time the band played the last song. Walking (briskly) home, I was thankful that we live in a neighborhood that holds great Fests that allow us to safely enjoy ourselves. Gemütlichkeit was experienced by all.

I could tell you about our experience at the Fest on Saturday and how good we were to drink a reasonable amount of beer and leave at a reasonable hour because we had to get up early today because today was the first Sunday for choir. And how after mass we went to Vanessa's for a bagel and coffee (for me) and a whole shebang (for Dave). And then how we went across the street to watch the Cubs game but left at the end of the game because the Bears game had started – but it is late and the music is lulling me to sleep.