GERMANY
Today marks the third intense hangover since being in Germany. Last night was the party for the final years who've all done their abiturs and will soon be leaving.
The party was marketed as being in Neuerburg's town hall, or Stadthalle, and this made me a bit excited that I might not have seen everything after all. I was thinking along the lines of Leeds town hall, or at least some very large old building. Turns out our town hall is a biggish room on the second floor of our local supermarket.
Still, it was 10 euros all you can drink, and I'm gonna properly miss all the ones who are about to leave so it seemed a good idea at the time. I remember talking to Jörg about the Fukushima power plant, and with my friend Peter about scientology. Next thing you know, their hands are on my crotch. Just kidding. Checking you were paying attention. But I'm fairly certain my German is far from good enough to have said anything worth hearing on either of those topics.
I also remember spending the last hour of the night sidling away from some guy with a moustache and nothing in the Respecting Personal Space Department. I made poor small talk at the beginning of the night, but after that he just followed me and stared at me. I felt like Blackbeard and this guy was my moustached parrot. I think this was actually half the reason I left.
So I'm gonna take the blunt and gross direction now by telling you that I woke up surrounded by a shitload of blood; apparently my nose decides for itself when it bleeds when I'm too drunk to do it myself. Cue washing of entire bed. This wasn't the best thing to see on top of a thumping headache and a mouth that 5 tooth brushings couldn't quite solve.
I killed my morning hangover by trekking round Neuerburg. Retrospectively I should've stayed in bed and tried to sleep the bastard away, but at the time I was just hungry for sweet pastry things. Maybe I was still drunk.
There was a mum and her small child in Cafe Brunker browsing cakes and things in the line in front of me. Mummy orders a coffee and a donut. "Tell the lady what you want" she says to her child. The kid ordered a donut, and mum looked far more startled than was really necessary. I wish I could remember the conversation in German, it was just better, but I can only remember that I understood everything.
Mummy: "But you said before you wanted a croissant?"
Child: "No, I want a donut now"
Mummy: "But you don't want us both to have donuts, do you?"
Child, tears forming: "Donut!"
Mummy: "Ok, two donuts" He stops crying.
There's a great deal of emphasis these days on not talking down to your children, but Christ, mummy, your kid must be only 2 years old. Grow a pair or at least draw some sort of line. Kids can be impulsive even when they're two.
Last thing: if I ever die in a roadside accident, please don't let my family or friends set up one of those roadside memorial things with flowers, teddys, a cross etc. Crap like that. I saw one today about 300m down the road out of Neuerburg and I still don't understand them. Cheers.
Today marks the third intense hangover since being in Germany. Last night was the party for the final years who've all done their abiturs and will soon be leaving.
The party was marketed as being in Neuerburg's town hall, or Stadthalle, and this made me a bit excited that I might not have seen everything after all. I was thinking along the lines of Leeds town hall, or at least some very large old building. Turns out our town hall is a biggish room on the second floor of our local supermarket.
Still, it was 10 euros all you can drink, and I'm gonna properly miss all the ones who are about to leave so it seemed a good idea at the time. I remember talking to Jörg about the Fukushima power plant, and with my friend Peter about scientology. Next thing you know, their hands are on my crotch. Just kidding. Checking you were paying attention. But I'm fairly certain my German is far from good enough to have said anything worth hearing on either of those topics.
I also remember spending the last hour of the night sidling away from some guy with a moustache and nothing in the Respecting Personal Space Department. I made poor small talk at the beginning of the night, but after that he just followed me and stared at me. I felt like Blackbeard and this guy was my moustached parrot. I think this was actually half the reason I left.
So I'm gonna take the blunt and gross direction now by telling you that I woke up surrounded by a shitload of blood; apparently my nose decides for itself when it bleeds when I'm too drunk to do it myself. Cue washing of entire bed. This wasn't the best thing to see on top of a thumping headache and a mouth that 5 tooth brushings couldn't quite solve.
I killed my morning hangover by trekking round Neuerburg. Retrospectively I should've stayed in bed and tried to sleep the bastard away, but at the time I was just hungry for sweet pastry things. Maybe I was still drunk.
There was a mum and her small child in Cafe Brunker browsing cakes and things in the line in front of me. Mummy orders a coffee and a donut. "Tell the lady what you want" she says to her child. The kid ordered a donut, and mum looked far more startled than was really necessary. I wish I could remember the conversation in German, it was just better, but I can only remember that I understood everything.
Mummy: "But you said before you wanted a croissant?"
Child: "No, I want a donut now"
Mummy: "But you don't want us both to have donuts, do you?"
Child, tears forming: "Donut!"
Mummy: "Ok, two donuts" He stops crying.
There's a great deal of emphasis these days on not talking down to your children, but Christ, mummy, your kid must be only 2 years old. Grow a pair or at least draw some sort of line. Kids can be impulsive even when they're two.
Last thing: if I ever die in a roadside accident, please don't let my family or friends set up one of those roadside memorial things with flowers, teddys, a cross etc. Crap like that. I saw one today about 300m down the road out of Neuerburg and I still don't understand them. Cheers.
