Six million people: Think about it.
That's four times the population of Philadelphia. That's a bigger crowd than the Hajj in Mecca, Mardi Gras in New Orleans and Carnival in Rio de Janeiro, combined.
Just try to get your head around these numbers:
_ 100,000: That's the size of the crowd that can be seated at any one time in the festival halls, the equivalent of five Wachovia Centers full of beer drinkers.
_ 500,000: That's the flock of chickens served to hungry attendees. Toss in 140,000 pairs of sausage links and 58,000 pork knuckles - a caloric intake that puts the Wing Bowl to shame.
_ 1.8 million: That's gallons of beer consumed. If Yards, Flying Fish, Sly Fox, Philly Brewing, Iron Hill, Nodding Head, Triumph and Weyerbacher stacked up all the beer they make in a year, it would not be enough to quench the thirst of Oktoberfest.
For me, what's most outstanding is that the world's largest festival is devoted not to religion or sports or music, but to beer - glorious, unapologetic beer.
This madness began as a wedding. Bavarian Crown Prince Ludwig and Princess Therese of Saxony-Hildburghausen did the deed on Oct. 12, 1810, celebrating their union with a spectacular horse race. They had so much fun, they did it again the next year, adding carnivals, food and beer. And again the next year, and the next. Before long, the event became less about a royal coupling and more about beer.
By the end of the 1800s, massive beer tents would be erected. Bavaria's proud brewers would create an entirely new beer style, Oktoberfest or maerzen, for the festival. (I'll write about it next week.) Even the delivery of the beer became an excuse to celebrate, with the casks loaded onto lavishly decorated wagons pulled by huge teams of horses.
Only war (and the infrequent cholera epidemic) kept Munich from its beer festival. This year's Oktoberfest is the 175th.
