Germany Day Three

I rolled out of bed in a stupor. My wife was ready to go and, clearly, didn’t try hard enough to wake me up. We had driving to do, mountains to climb, and beer to drink.

We rented a car from the world’s least helpful person. Honestly, an experience you can have anywhere, as long as you’re renting a car. We (she) figured out the German GPS and started guessing how far kilometers are in American. 800 meters takes forever, but 100 meters means “start turning now.” Let’s just say I missed a few turns.

The Autobahn, ladies and gentlemen. We were on it for 50 miles. Enough time to hit an astonishing 208 km/hr, or 129 mph. That was outside of my wife’s comfort zone. She explained 180 km/hr was fine with her. Driving on the Autobahn was a balancing act.

First, you had to monitor your own speed, which included encouraging the engine to do its best. Ours needed a lot of positive reinforcement since we ended up with a Ford Focus. Don’t worry—it was a hatchback.

Next, you had to monitor the speed of the other cars on the road. This was 90% BMWs, blowing past us like we were standing still.

Finally, you had to make sure your shotgun rider knows you heard her say, “I can feel the car shaking,” for the hundredth time.

Partnachklamm was a moss-covered system of walking paths and tunnels that followed a river. A welcoming peace after the chaos of the Autobahn. We kept getting passed by older men with walking sticks—like BMWs on the Autobahn. Everyone had a walking stick. Why don't I get a walking stick?

Then we went over to the old Olympic stadium! I was hyped to check this out! Then I realized we were parking here and going somewhere else— We were going to the world’s tallest beer garden! Back to hyped! We walked by the Olympic ski slope anyway. Then we got to see the field below it. I imagine they played Discus here. IDK.

Onto the world’s tallest beer garden—Zugspitze. We had to take the Zugspitzbahn, a train, up the mountain with our ears popping every few "ChugaChuga"s (the noise a train makes). We sat directly across from an older couple who were obviously talking about us. They weren’t speaking English, but they kept pointing at us. Not very discreet. Their public transportation seats all face each other in groups of four, making you stare at strangers if it's just the two of you.

Once we got to the top, we ate some schnitzel and had some beers on top of the world. But wait—there’s more! We weren’t even at the beer garden yet. We were just at the restaurant. We rode a cable car further up the mountain to the actual world’s tallest beer garden and had round two! But wait—there’s more! People were climbing straight up the cliff to the summit. Some even had gear. Do we have gear? Are we doing it anyway?

As we were walking up the stairs, I said, "These stairs look sketchy." Then we came across these giant staples hammered into the side of the mountain. You were supposed to climb these like a ladder.

I said, "These staples seem sketchy."

Next, there was an actual ladder, about 4 feet tall. You had to move diagonally to get on it.

I was thinking, "This ladder is sketchy."

The rest of the way up, there was a steel cable bolted to the mountain. You were supposed to hold onto it to avoid certain death. There was nowhere to put your feet, which was really sketchy. Thanks, whoever put this together.

The summit was above the clouds on Germany's tallest Alp.

I flew up to the top and hung out with the Australians I found—who were all smoking, by the way. I said, "Isn't the air a little thin up here?"

One of them replied, "Especially when you've been in the piss all night." I didn’t get a word of that.

My wife and I had different climbing strategies. I liked to run up as fast as possible. She preferred to take her time and make sure she was safe. We both touched the giant gold totem pole marking the summit. Let’s see how this goes on the way down.

There were no problems there, except I had to grab the cable on either side of a traveler. He was on his way up and wouldn’t give up the line. It was basically a loose hug amongst acquaintances.

We napped on the train ride down. Chugga Chugga. Then we drove to our next hotel.

After rounding the block a few times, we finally settled into Hotel Sonne Fussen. They had my name on the parking spot— that was a first. The hotel decorated the hallways with headless mannequins wearing formal ball gowns—the stuff of nightmares. The lights were on motion sensors, so they occasionally turned on by themselves—what a terrifying combo.

We sprung for the honeymoon upgrade, so we got champagne and chocolates! I wish I could replace my white noise machine with some chugga chuggas.