Instinctively, I made a turn and attempted to leave the area. I had given up drinking alcohol several years previous and did not feel comfortable attending a festival primarily devoted to imbibing beer. Joe had no such strictures and adamantly argued for me to stop the car so we could attend the merriment. I argued to not stop and kept driving . Karen remained neutral. Leaving the area was just as slow as arriving. Before traveling a few blocks, Joe reached from the back seat to the ignition switch, turned the car off, and removed the keys. The car quickly came to a halt with the steering wheel in a locked position. Joe refused me the keys and offered to find a parking place. That settled it; we were going to the party.
For the next couple of hours, we wandered around the grounds. It did not turn out as frightening as I imagined. Sure, beer seemed the focus. Several breweries set up large tent like structures as beer halls. Making their way down outside paths were colorful horse drawn wagons loaded with kegs. Each team of horses was also colorfully decorated, supposedly in theme of its brewery. Once they got to their respective tents, kegs would be rolled off, tapped, beer drawn and delivered to the throngs inside each tent. Not everyone was partaking in consumption of beer, there were many other events and foodstuffs to munch through. It was tiring to jostle with crowds and we wanted to get as far as Berchtesgaden. So ,having our fill of partying, we returned to our car and left town. As it turned out, I was grateful Joe forced us to stop and join in the festivities. It provided us with colorful sights and memories.