easant garbed _fraeuleins_ darted about the tables with
quart sized earthenware mugs, platters of chicken, sausage, kraut and
pretzels.

I found a place finally at a table which had space for twenty-odd beer
bibbers. Odd is right. As weird an assortment of Germans and foreign
tourists as could have been dreamed up, ranging from a seventy- or
eighty-year-old couple in Bavarian costume, to the bald-headed drunk
across the table from me.

A desperate waitress bearing six mugs of beer in each hand scurried
past. They call them _masses_, by the way, not mugs. The bald-headed
character and I both held up a finger and she slid two of the _masses_
over to us and then hustled on.

"Down the hatch," the other said, holding up his _mass_ in toast.

"To the ladies," I told him. Before sipping, I said, "You know, the
tourist pamphlets say this stuff is eighteen per cent. That's nonsense.
No beer is that strong." I took a long pull.

He looked at me, waiting.

I came up. "Mistaken," I admitted.

A _mass_ or two apiece later he looked carefully at the name engraved on
his earthenware mug. "Loewenbraeu," he said. He took a small notebook from
his pocket and a pencil, noted down the word and returned the things.

"That's a queer looking pencil you have there," I told him. "German?"

"Venusian," he said. "Oops, sorry. Shouldn't have said that."

I had never heard of the brand so I skipped it.

"Next is the Hofbraeu," he said.

"Next what?" Baldy's conversation didn't seem to hang together very
well.

"My pilgrimage," he told me. "All my life I've been wanting to go back
to an _Oktoberfest_ and sample every one of the seven brands of the best
beer the world has ever known. I'm only as far as Loewenbraeu. I'm afraid
I'll never make it."

I finished my _mass_. "I'll help you," I told him. "Very noble endeavor.
Name is Simon."

"Arth," he said. "How could you help?"

"I'm still fresh--comparatively. I'll navigate you around. There are
seven beer tents. How many have you got through, so far?"

"Two, counting this one," Arth said.

I looked at him. "It's going to be a chore," I said. "You've already got
a nice edge on."

Outside, as we made our way to the next tent, the fair looked like every
big State-Fair ever seen, except it was bigger. Games, souvenir stands,
sausage stands, rides, side shows, and people, people, people.

The Hofbraeu tent was as overflowing as the last but we managed to find
two seats.

The ban