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Oktoberfest: Day 1

Lace Up Your Lederhosen

After five anxious hours on the bus, we were ready to take over Oktoberfest. I ran off the bus with my pigtails in place and euros in hand, ready to buy a dirndl. About ten minutes from the train station, I walked into a costume store and talked down the price from 80 euro to 60 euro. It may seem pricey, but my elaborate dirndl is an investment. I plan to wear it to every Halloween, Christmas, and any given party for the rest of my life.

Loving My Dirndl


Arriving to the front entrance, we were in shock of how massive the park was. Acres of Beer Halls, rides, games and food vendors filled the gates. We had been waiting all weekend for this.
How Authentic


Can a Girl Get a Stein? 
Kenzie, Chelsea, Dena and I walked through three beer halls before finding a spot in the Hofbräuhaus to rest. I ended up squeezing my way in between some older couples, completely stuck between a middle aged man and the cafeteria table.
A few steins in, I didn’t really care.
We mingled with Australians and a group of British boys, then a group of New Yorkers sat at our table. People from all over the world were here to celebrate the festival.
Photo-Bombed By an Aussie


With an hour left before the bus took off, we left Hofbräuhaus to check out carnival games. We walked into a “fun house” which ended up being a floor-dropping twirl-ride. These types of rides usually make me nauseous, but I handled the ride like a five year old champ.

Sausages Larger Than My Face

Later, we bought our wieners, chocolate covered bananas on a stick, our roasted nuts, and our souvenir steins. The tour group was ready to bus back to Florence but I was not.
Dirndl in Distress
I had booked a hostel months in advance to stay Sunday night in Munich. I was under the impression that the train ride back was to be booked at the Munich train station. Arriving at the tourist info desk, I was informed that all trains back to Florence were booked for Monday.
I was drunk, dressed in a drindl, and stranded in Munich. I fought back tears (hardly) and spotted a Starbucks. A frappuccino and donut can do wonders for a sad, sad girl.
Luckily, my hostel was just around the street. I even asked a cab driver for a ride and he just laughed and pointed in the direction to the YMCA I was staying in. The concierge was very friendly and helpful, which was relieving. Once I got into my room, I plopped onto my bed, closed my eyes, and fell into a deep sleep.

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