The Olympic Stadium, Rian gets greedy and Des Lennis: The Munich Chronicles Vol.3

The Olympic Stadium, Rian gets greedy and Des Lennis: The Munich Chronicles Vol.3

So we kicked off day three of the 'non-stag doo stag doo' with a trip to the Olympic Park, home to the 1972 Games. But before taking in the sights of the Olympic stadium we popped in to the BMW Museum. It was effectively a big car showroom but Mike was impressed with the clinical cleanliness of their toilets so he was happy.

The most unconvincing boyband line up of all time

We then made the short journey over to the Olympic park. It was here where I was reminded exactly why I chose Munich for this trip. I love the snow...and Munich has tonnes of the stuff. The Olympic park was white-over and the huge lake was frozen solid. The views were spectacular. We ventured up a nearby hill to get a better look - and it was breathtaking. Hands down my favourite part of the trip and the scene of my favourite picture of the trip too.

After a stroll around for an hour or so we made our way back towards the centre of Munich. 'Mapman' was on the hunt for a pork knuckle sandwich and the rest of us were feeling quite peckish too. We mooched around a marketplace, indulged in a bratwurst or two then the group split in two. Ian and Alex headed back to the Allianz Arena to watch Bayern Munich play Werder Bremen whilst the rest of us made a 45 minute trip to the Dachau concentration camp.

It may sound like a strange choice of destination for a lads weekend but I'm glad we went. It's only when you see these places for real you can begin to in any way understand the sense of bleakness, chill and cruelty which emanated from these camps. As we walked in as a group, it made me think, statistically, at least two of us would never have walked out again. Chilling. A part of human history which should never be allowed to be forgotten.

Suffice to say by the end of the afternoon we were all flagging a tad so we did what every stag doo group would do in order to 'get back on it'...schedule in an hour or two at the hotel for nap time.

Now, we all anticipated the final night would be relatively subdued. From experience, most people are getting tired, a bit grouchy and keeping one eye on the journey home the following day by this point. That's why the final night was supposed to be quiet. A few drinks, some decent food and then back to the hotel for a decent night's kip. None of these things happened.

We went to a beer hall and were fortunate enough to get the final row of seats. We duly orderded some stein's of lager and set about ordering our food. Now, one thing I learnt on this trip...the Germans are wonderful at lots of things. Engines, beer, hospitality - all first class. Their cuisine however leaves a lot to be desired. And so it proved at the beer hall. An ordering process which resembled a scene from Fawlty Towers with the hapless waiter coming back at least four times to tell us that various orders were 'off'. Alex eventually ordered a half roast chicken. In fairness the description was spot on. He was served up half a chicken. Nothing else - just half a chicken unceremoniously dumped on a plate. Tasty.

Now Rian. He was clearly peckish as he ordered two main meals. The first one was some sort of anaemic looking sausage platter and the second, well, there are few words which I feel could  do justice to just how awful it looked. And in fairness - it didn't taste much better. Try and imagine if you will, something which has just come out of a Felix cat food pouch...but less appetising. After being passed around the table for us all to try (and one or two even gagged), the waiter returned to take it away. He was clearly amused: "You English? I knew you wouldn't like. I didn't tell you, but I knew you wouldn't like". I admired his honesty.

We then embarked on a drinking game which requires everyone around the table to put their hand flat on the table, crossed with the persons next to them. Hands are then tapped around clockwise until someone messes up the sequence and then is forced to drink. Fortunately for everyone involved, Garv was dreadful at this game. As someone commented - 'Garv, I bet you were picked last for everything in PE'. He was.

So, as Garv got progressively inebriated his co-ordination got even worse. We eventually gave up on the hand tapping game and progressed to the game where you have to name someone famous, then the next person names another famous person whose first name starts with the first letter of the previous persons surname (bear with me here). For example, one person would say 'Michael Jackson', the next one would be 'Jessica Ennis', then 'Eva Cassidy' and so on and so forth. At this point, Garv was on the ropes. His brain was clearly as co-ordinated as his hands (he's a catch ladies) culminating in what I'm sure will go down in folklore as 'Des Lennis'...our survey said...drink Garv.

Garv's further ruin was saved only by a group on the table next to us starting a traditional German sing-a-long number. Mambo #5. Yes, only the British or Irish can belt out 1990s cheese pop in beer halls across Europe with no shame. Still, at least one group of Werder Bremen fans were impressed and sang along with us. Mambo #5 was followed by at least a 6 and a half minute rendition of American Pie. We then instigated a medley of Summer of '69 and Wonderwall before the lights were literally switched off on us.

We then found ourselves on the street with our new found Werder Bremen friends heading towards a club. This was not the quiet night we'd expected. To cut a long story short, we stumbled into the hotel at about 4.30am. Needless to say the following morning we were beaten men. Ian in particular had been traumatised as Alex, having got up in the night to go to the toilet and having no idea where he was, proceeded to climb into bed with him. Taking brotherly love to a whole new level I fear.

Rian had to leave early the next morning to get his flight, but in fairness, he left us his unopened bag of lettuce which was nice of him.  

It was a cold weekend, it was a long weekend. It wasn't the weekend I'd envisaged when we booked our flights eight months ago. But I wouldn't have changed it for the world.

And for a music finale...a staple tune from Wednesday nights at Reload in Aberystwyth...and now a memory of a slightly sozzled sing-song in a Munich Beer Hall with a group of Werder Bremen fans...