The most popular part of the World Cup? Da Beers.

June 25th, 2006 | by: Peter | Comments(4)

“Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy.” If this line, by Benjamin Franklin is true, Germany, the land of Oktoberfest and home of the world’s oldest brewery, may rival Disneyland as the “happiest place on earth.”

The Spanish language appropriately labels Germany, “Ale-mania” and the Berlin Fan Mile alone has sold over 845,000 pints of beer since the beginning of the tournament. A random sampling of the beer stand employees at the fest produced estimates that each stand dispenses about 300 liters of happiness on an average day and 1,000 liters when Germany has a game. Andre, a Berliner Pilsner employee with a stand in a prime location, estimated that his stand sells 1,000 to 3,000 liters of beer each day.

I met some England fans happily adding to that total at the fan fest during the England vs. Sweden game. They told me they were employed at “The Irish Pub,” and told me that beer sales have been so good at the fan fests and the outdoor screens so popular, the “The Irish Pub” is losing business and the staff is not making what they might normally make in tips.

Smelling a bigger phenomenon (perhaps the Fan Fests are driving the local pubs out of business) and, perhaps more importantly, a chance to spend a day touring Berlin’s best pubs, I checked in with one of Berlin’s most famous Irish hangouts, “The Oscar Wilde.”

Formerly a watering hole for the numerous British and Irish building workers in Germany in the mid-nineties, an online source says that the completion of the extensive Potsdamer platz buildings and the departure of the workers has the pub back to “near normality.”

But is it losing money because of the fan fests? The way the staff was hurriedly preparing for a Friday night of live music and karaoke, it didn’t look like it. “We might be losing business if the weather [weren’t better,] but we normally slow down in the summertime,” Bar Manager Terry McGee said. “We’re more of a wintertime pub anyway.” And with that he was back to work in the back room, setting up for the music.

In an effort to clarify this new information, and with a few hours until the start of the day’s late games, I struck out for “The Irish Pub,” and with only the memory of the verbal directions given to me several days earlier, I managed to navigate a 10 minute train and 5 minute walk in a little under two hours.

“The Irish Pub” is tucked underneath a multi-level shopping center, “in the basement next to the bombed out Church” as I was told. But more accurately described you find the KFC and Victoria’s Secret and go down. Only the escalator ride detracts from the bar’s charm.
Inside, as the second set of games begin, the pub is so packed the waitresses must dance through customers with their trays as they negotiate through the crowd. With six full bars partitioned by removable walls and clever angles, the pub resembles a decorated airport in size and intricacy; filling it is no small feat. Why aren’t the employees getting normal or above average tips?

A group of Irish fans out to have a good time provided the answer, but only after meandering through topics such as the benefits of drinking German beer, (“They don’t add preservatives to their beer. We can drink as much as we want and we don’t get hung over.”) the travesty of having Budweiser as the official beer of a World Cup held in Germany (“I still drink it in the stadium, but it’s kind of shite,” Rob said. “I thought we were going to be able to get Bitburger.”) and the difference between American and Irish drinking cultures, (“The Americans would be sitting there, saying ‘I’m so drunk, I’m so drunk,’ John and I would be holding on to each other trying to get up the stairs to work the next morning.”)

After the game ended, just before I was going to excuse myself from the group, one of the Irish lads asked how I feel about a culture that doesn’t add a gratuity or expect a tip with the service. “Well I suppose if they’re paying their staff a similar wage they don’t need tips,” I say. “And don’t the Germans expect a small gratuity?” He answers that it’s not the Germans that don’t do gratuities, it’s the Irish. And this is an Irish bar.

His comment sort of explains the waning tips for the staff. They’re attracting so many of the real Irish in town for the tournament that most of their clientele doesn’t leave a tip. As I got up to leave, I dropped some money on the table anyway, and told the table to make sure it got to the waitress. Even though the true Irish in the bar might not have felt the need to add a little to the tab, it only seemed right after she brought us so much happiness.