Feb 11 2004

Hofbrauhaus Las Vegas

by Megan Edwards

Starbucks did it faster, and Disneyland did it bigger, but both followed the hallowed capitalist tradition of spawning all over the place. And now, like one of those rare desert plants that reproduces only once a millennium, Munich’s revered Hofbräuhaus has dropped a pup in Las Vegas.

I was actually very excited when I saw the stick-and-stucco replica begin to take shape across the street from the Hard Rock Hotel. I have fond memories of losing my inhibitions at the Oktoberfest, and I liked the idea of being able to do it closer to home. And where better in all the world to put a copy of Bavaria’s favorite 400-year-old beer hall? Germany is underrepresented in Las Vegas. Yes, there’s a piece of the Berlin Wall that serves as a backsplash in the men’s restroom at Main Street Station, but that’s not exactly an Eiffel Tower.

To get everybody warmed up to the idea of a Hofbräuhaus on local soil, the partners behind the project held a mini-Oktoberfest in September. The pitched a big white tent in the parking lot of Terrible’s Casino and filled it with the requisite wooden tables, blue-and-white banners, and a slightly inebriated oompah band.

It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t Munich. Nobody knew the words to the drinking songs, and if you ordered a “mass” of beer—one of those liter-sized glass mugs—you had to pay for the glass and then try to get your money back when you left if you didn’t want to keep it. Kinda cheesy, I thought. But the wursts weren’t the worst, and the beer improved as it disappeared. So did my ability to sing without knowing the words.

So now, fast forward to the big day when the last inspector had left the building. Hofbräuhaus Las Vegas was ready for action just in time for the Super Bowl. I waited until the following weekend to go.

I’m not going to say a whole lot about my experience last Friday night, because I’m a believer in second dates. Hofbräuhaus Las Vegas didn’t make a perfect first impression, but neither have a lot of guys I’ve gone out with who later turned out to be princes. I’m hoping that the Hofbräuhaus won’t be able to resist the influence of its location, that Las Vegas will eventually knock a few corners off the stiff Germanic “alles in ordnung” style it’s got right now.

There is hope. The designers of the Hofbräuhaus built Las Vegas into the very fabric of the building. The “beer garden” has a grove of real (but dead) chestnut trees with stuck-on fake leaves, and a beautifully painted, ever-crepuscular sky.

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