Some put on vests and jackets with the embroidery that four friends from Toronto coveted most of all: a red patch with a black and gold eagle. Those were the people who'd won the prizes of the Bogenschuetzenfest archery competition, part of the tradition for years and decades, itself. And the friends from Toronto made it their own tradition to travel to the competition year after year, wishing for patches like that. The girl wanted most of all to win the flugelman prize, for taking off a wing of the eagle target high up on a pole.
The competition was getting underway and Andy, the jolly organizer, asked the friends from Toronto to pose for a picture.
Then the biggest fellow from Toronto won the first prize, the Kroneman, for taking the crown off the bird, and earned a new patch for his fancy vest.
The girl said, "Aw, that warms my heart like the double-double from my traditional road trip paper cup. I think I'll take a slug."
The head came off. A wing came off. And when the girl stepped up for her turn, she knew she had to get the other wing now, or once again, she wouldn't win the Flugelman prize. And Shawn, the famous coach, shouted "You got this, Tara!" Alas, she didn't but she thought it was very nice of him to cheer her on.
The girl said, "Aw, that warms my heart like a big gulp of apple cider from my refillable mug. I think I'll go fill up."
It came time for the very last prize to be contested: the lady who hit the bird in the heart would be the Konigen, the queen. All the girls and women lined up to take their shot. The girl from Toronto was close to the end, and she'd had a long day looking longingly at the embroidered patches of people who'd entered the Schuetzen Guilde. She raised her bow and aimed. Her giant flu-flu flew. And with a great bang, the heart exploded. She couldn't believe it, and people slapped her hand and said nice things, and Morgan, the girl with the most pretty patches, retrieved the blast cap from the heart and gave it to her to keep, like Morgan had kept her own.
The girl said, "Aw, now that warms my heart like a juicy schnitzel topped with Oktoberfest mustard. Wouldn't that go fine with a beer in a stein? I left my stein at home but I think I'll just go have some, anyway."
Maybe another year, the girl will win the flugelman but she got her patch. Yet, when she got it, she found she liked it but only half as much as the welcome from the folk of the Schuetzen Guilde, who after only a few years, make the friends from Toronto feel at home with them. And the special Oktoberfest word for that is 'Gemuetlichkeit.'