Anyone who has stepped outside on a Saturday morning, only to be swept away by an unrelenting tide of red and white-clad Badger fans with an unholy thirst for blood and Miller High Life, can attest to the popularity of college football here in Madison.
Helen of Troy's face may have launched a thousand ships in ancient Greece, but here and now it is Barry Alvarez's face that lights a thousand grills at our tailgate parties. You may not realize, however, that although the Badgers lost to Northwestern Saturday, they still managed to bring the Swiss to their knees.
Allow me to explain. On Saturday, I went to Oktoberfest in New Glarus, a magical little town about 25 miles south of Madison that has two claims to fame. The first is a restaurant in town called the Glarner Stube that houses the biggest urinal in the Midwest in its men's room, which I of course visited and bought a postcard of. This urinal is a massive porcelain beast measuring 24 inches wide and 46 inches tall. Countless visitors to the Stube have gone in to use it, gotten one look at its humbling girth, and decided to hold it till they reached the next gas station.
Famous thing No. 2 about New Glarus is that it calls itself Wisconsin's \Little Switzerland"" and can back it up. The town architecture is of Swiss-chalet design, including the car dealership. The bars all have German names. I did not see a Blockbuster, but I did spot a ""Video Haus."" They have a ""Swisstorical Society,"" and best of all, I did not have to make up any of these examples.
So when a small Midwestern town establishes itself as a sort of Swiss theme park, one expects their Oktoberfest to be something really special. And by God, it was.
There was an oompah band in every bar, and it appeared as though the town was hosting an accordion convention. There was enough beer within the city limits to take down Nick Nolte on a full stomach and enough cheese to satisfy John Goodman on an empty one. Best of all, I truly believe that every inflatable bouncy castle within a thousand mile radius was stationed on the streets of New Glarus for the delight of local children. I cursed my advanced years that I was unable to join in the bouncy castle fun.
At the center of this orgy of Swissitude was The Beer Tent. I went in at about half-past two, determined to experience the heart of Oktoberfest, whatever shape it may take. A crowd of people gathered around a counter, cheering and yelling, and I wanted to know what had enthralled them so.
And to my great shock, the main attraction inside was not Max Drexler's 16-piece Bavarian Band, nor was it the man in lederhosen who had taken himself a dance partner to polka with until the stars turned cold.
It was the tail end of the Badger game played on two plasma-screen TVs. It was Oktoberfest in Little Switzerland, and everyone was watching Madison, Wisconsin play football. The Swiss had put their greatest cultural celebration on hold for an away game. For good or ill, that's the power that Badger football seems to hold over central Wisconsin, and it gave me pause.
And here I thought the giant urinal was impressive.
Justin Zyduck absolutely loves Swiss Cr??me soda and can be reached at morrisonbass@yahoo.com.
