Like StevieB's spiritual journey, mine required donning traditional vestments of leather. I'm not sure if his mission included sacramental drink. If it did, knowing Stevie, it was probably coffee.
My pilgrimage may have begun with planes and trains, but the final leg of my journey could only be completed by imbibing the ancient, mystical nectar of the gods. There are only five consecrated Oktoberfest brews, all strictly adhering to the Gospel of Reinheitsgebot. Served by the liter and consumed in song and fellowship to the sound of deep brass horns and cracking whips.
It took nearly two gallons of sacred brew (and at least half a dozen offertories to the urinal trough) but I finally achieved spiritual enlightenment. I touched the face of God. Well, I belched in the face of God. The rest is kind of fuzzy.
|Pac enjoying mass. (Here they call it "Eine Maß".)|