Again, this was enough for me. Village festival—pure and true, Mass with the bishop, free glass of champagne… I desired nothing else. But, God is ridiculous.

So, we leave the tavern and continue to follow as we are beckoned to do. The media follow the bishop and we follow them all. Into the local Beerhaus we go, lined up bishop to media. As the door opens, the warmth of the entire village awaiting inside greets us. A standing ovation. And as we are following the bishop, I could very easily imagine it being for us… even though it wasn’t.

So we follow….. right up to the table in the very front of the room. The table reserved right next to the bishop, the mayor, and all the other very important people.

I AM SITTING NEXT TO THE BISHOP AND THE MAYOR AT A SMALL-TOWN (er, village) CELEBRATION IN A SMALL-TOWN BEERHAUS DRINKING BEER, EATING SAUSAGE, LISTENING TO GERMAN MUSIC AND WATCHING GERMANS DANCE… ALL FROM MY FRONT-ROW-TABLE-OF-HONOR-EXCUSE-ME-BUT-WHO-THE-HECK-AM-I-BUT-A-FOREIGNER SEAT.

I mean, really! C’MON!

But, it’s all true. I drank beer next to the bishop of Bavaria and the Mayor of Marktl. I had front row seats for amazing German music and amazing German dancing (the stomp your heel on the ground, tap your hand with your foot, put your arms in the air kind—with a nod from National Lampoon’s European Vacation).

PURE GERMANY.