The hairy guy, who lived in Germany for a time, once walked into a biergarten with an American friend. We sat at a long table filled with people and laughter amid a buzz of friendly, animated conversation. It was truly like being in a movie scene. But neither of us could figure out how to get a beer (or bier, in this case) and we eventually left.
Heading to the Bier Garten, on State Park Drive just north of Wilder, Harry tried to curtail his anticipation. After all, it was a Monday afternoon, not the likeliest time to find a boisterous crowd even at an Oktoberfest. And inside, the place was deserted, except for a couple of employees.
But we did find a healthy dose of gemütlichkeit in the form of the owner’s mother, a delightful woman who lit the place up all by herself, even as she was polishing brass handrails.