Is there madness on the Theresienwiese? Not in the "Boandlkramerei." It's more of a family atmosphere here.
Two men in bright blue Augustiner T-shirts heave a barrel onto the stage. The stone jugs stand ready next to it. The stick is waiting on the floor.
It's Oktoberfest time. For Wiesn host Peter Schöniger, the best time of the year. Especially since he was allowed to manage a tent himself for the first time last year. In the run-up to the event, he said in an interview that it was all about one thing for him: that the guests tell him how "nice" it was when they leave and that they would love to come back.
There is still time until the tapping. The "Boandlkramerei" tent slowly fills up. The Bavarian sky, the Bavarian dream, adorns the roof of the tent in blue and white. Three men, er, boys, in traditional costumes made of polyester and transparent stockings are looking for their table. They come from Australia, their names are Tyler, Kyle and Sam. Somewhat timidly, they try to keep up the mood that has taken them halfway around the world: "Oktoberfescht", Kyle calls out, with something questioning about the word. Then they realize: they were in the wrong tent and they stagger back out into the late summer heat.
Everything is strangely calm here at the "Oidn Wiesn". There is no sign of the madness of the so-called "Wiesnsturm", which takes place just a few hundred meters away. It’s almost a miracle that this works; that you don’t just sing about coziness (with a toast to it), but actually feel it too. Here! On the Theresienwiese!
The waiters are equipped like marathon runners. Pink waist belts contain electrolyte gels and huge water bottles. Among them, like a cowboy's bullet casings, cola, lemonade, apple juice - for the non-alcoholic guests.
Then three alphorns begin to play and the audience rushes to the stage. "Wait a minute!" calls out from up there. "When it's 10 seconds to 12, we'll do a countdown." However, it's already past 12. "Tap it up!" calls from the tent. So Rosenheim cop actor Alexander Duda taps the tap. He needs four taps, which is always important to say. After all, you're not here for fun. "All the beers on tap are free beers." A cheerful man shouts into a microphone. Asians jostle with Bavarians, who all come out of the crowd, sweaty and proud with a mug.
A polka begins on stage while a man in an Adidas tracksuit wipes the spilled beer off the floorboards and the waiters and waitresses distribute beer mugs on the tables as quickly as they can. There is a family atmosphere in the "Boandlkramerei". Children in tiny dirndls and lederhosen stand everywhere and watch with wide eyes as their parents drink Oktoberfest beer from oversized goblets. And they dance the traditional costume dance, standing on their parents' shoes and shrieking with joy.
High time to pay a visit to the chef, Peter Felic. A few years ago, he was still head chef at the Paulanerzelt, but when Schöniger called him with the offer to take over the "Boandlkramerei", he agreed straight away. Why? "I need a challenge." He wanted to give guests the culinary feeling that they were in a restaurant. "They pay 100 to 200 euros at the table," he says. "They deserve the best quality."
To guarantee this, he worked with regional farmers who grew special vegetables just for him. "I miss the competition at the Oktoberfest," he says. The other landlords have become too complacent with the millions in turnover they generate. "I want to challenge them all."
But now it's time for the women in the tent - to dance. It's the ladies' election. And last but not least: "A toast, a toast to Gemütlichkeit." And the mugs go up in rows, high into the Bavarian sky.
