When Mark and David landed in Frankfurt, they thought they were ready for Oktoberfest. After all, they’d seen the pictures — beer tents, pretzels, and people in lederhosen smiling like they’d found the secret to happiness. But nothing could have prepared them for what awaited inside the festival grounds.
From the moment they stepped into the massive tent, the air was thick with laughter, music, and the irresistible aroma of roasted pork and malted hops. The band struck up “Ein Prosit,” and before they knew it, both friends had a stein in hand, clinking glasses with complete strangers.
“Prost!” shouted Mark, who had decided after his second liter that he was now fluent in German.
David laughed, trying to keep up. “You’re fluent in beer, not German,” he corrected. But even he couldn’t stop smiling. The energy was infectious — rows of people standing on benches, singing, toasting, and dancing in rhythm with the brass band.
By the time their waitress, a cheerful woman in a traditional dirndl, dropped off another round, Mark had declared Frankfurt’s Oktoberfest “better than any concert on Earth.” Between bites of crispy Schweinshaxe and oversized pretzels, they chatted with travelers from all over the world — Australians, Italians, even a Bavarian couple who claimed this was their 25th year attending.
The night rolled on in a blur of music, laughter, and stories. When the oompah band played “Sweet Caroline,” the entire tent erupted into one giant singalong — hundreds of voices joined together, strangers arm in arm.
At one point, David found himself dancing the chicken dance with a silver-haired woman who could have outdrunk them both. “Only in Germany,” he thought, laughing so hard his sides hurt.
By midnight, they stumbled out into the cool Frankfurt air, full of joy, food, and memories that would last a lifetime. The lights of the festival glowed behind them, and the sound of one last chorus of “Prost!” followed them down the street.
Mark looked over at his friend and grinned. “Same time next year?”
David raised an imaginary stein. “Same tent. Same madness. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
And just like that, two friends became part of a centuries-old tradition — one stein, one song, and one unforgettable night at a time.
Frankfurt’s Oktoberfest may not have the fame of Munich’s, but it offers a vibrant mix of local charm, authentic food, world-class beer, and a friendly atmosphere that feels like a giant reunion with people you’ve just met. It’s where cultures collide, laughter is the only language you need, and every cheer feels like home.
-Lê Nguyễn Thanh Phương-