Last modified: Sunday, October 12, 2008 2:40 AM EDT ZUCK: Loving Oktoberfest in Southern California The California sun warms up the morning to a pleasant 76 degrees. I look out my window and see surfers carrying their surfboards towards the beach. Palm trees sway in the breeze, and birds fly through a cloudless blue sky. It's the perfect day, I think - the perfect day for Oktoberfest! Heading east from San Diego on Interstate 8, we soon arrive in El Cajon, a small blue-collar city with a population of just over 100,000 residents. Here in El Cajon, they love their NASCAR, they love their pickup trucks, and - fortunately for us - they love their beer! The city's German American Society has cleared out their parking lot, put a fence around it, and erected row after row of white tents. The surrounding streets are full of cars, pickup trucks, and a healthy dose of motorcycles. A motley gaggle of thirsty revelers waits in line to surrender a five-dollar bill in exchange for a white wristband which allows them inside. Amidst the crowd is a sprinkling of cowboy hats, packs of folks sporting leather biking jackets, plenty of tattoos, and the ubiquitous San Diego Chargers jerseys sporting LaDainian Tomlinson's number. It's not exactly what I expected Oktoberfest to look like, but then I've never been to Munich in October, so what do I know? We push deeper into the maze of tents, past booths with eager vendors attempting to sell us everything from homemade Christmas ornaments to used beer steins to a brand-new Ford sedan to kitschy lawn ornaments and Jacuzzis. To my right is a booth where for a dollar you get three attempts to throw a ball and knock down empty milk bottles which are surely glued to the table. To my left, a group of townsfolk huddle around a television watching horse racing. I wonder whether it's not too late to trade my wristband in and use my five dollars toward a trip to Germany for a real taste of Oktoberfest. But just as I'm about to give up and go home, the crowd ahead of me parts and I catch a glimpse of the main tent and the fun being had beneath it. An accordion starts to play and suddenly dozens of beer steins, beer mugs, and plastic cups - all brimming with wonderful imported beer - are thrust into the air. A drinking song commences - in German! Sung by a band flown in from Germany! Wearing lederhosen! We find our way to the front of the bar and obtain some tasty bratwursts and cups of Dunkel. We dodge women of all ages, stuffed into dirndls and swinging on the arms of their dance partners. After a few rounds of food and beer we begin to learn the drinking songs just well enough to drink along. Whether it's because of the beer or the atmosphere, the air becomes joyfully thick with German accents, and I am beginning to wish I'd acquired a pair of lederhosen for the event. This, I think, is what Oktoberfest is supposed to be like, no matter where in Germany, or in Europe, or in Southern California you happen to be. BILL ZUCK, a Foxboro native now living in San Diego, almost brought a Jacuzzi home from Oktoberfest. You can reach him at wcz78@yahoo.com.