Ladies and Gentlemen; Germany
Friday, August 04, 2006
This began many months ago, but for now this is as good as any place to start. Our bags were packed, and off we were going. It was the first time I actually felt like I was leaving the States and everything I knew behind. I was saying to Turtle earlier on in the week that I was questioning if I was a sociopath of some variety. When everyone around me was trying to quell tears and saying goodbye to us, I was stoic, with a smile tattooed to my face. Finally hours before we took flight, I was understanding why I was acting the way I was. Up to this minute it never felt like the end to me, but now here we were. For a moment I was even getting sentimental about the construction being done on 90. Oh construction you made my commute unbearable every summer, but I'm going to miss rubblestrips and your barriers, but most of all the way you made us all stop and take a good hard look at your curves.
Most people at this point would expect the writer to go on a diatribe about the flight, but honestly it was pretty uneventful. The most interesting thing to me was the shortest night ever. It lasted about three hours, flying into the sun can do that to the night you know.
We arrived in Germany without much fanfare, getting into the country was easier than getting into the Dominican Republic. Show the passport, tell them where you are going, get the stamp, go grab some coffee. Why coffee? Even in Germany 7am is to early for beer (even though it was 1 am on my time). In retrospect perhaps a Hefe-Weisen was in order.
We gathered our luggage but only after a moment of fear. For about ten minutes my guitar was nowhere to be found, then like the Siren that it is, it got my attention. Laying in wait, over in the corner in the übergroße luggage area there she waited, begging for my attention. I opened her up the minute I got her, fearing that she might not have been there -- I've heard stories you see, but she was there along with a little note from the US governement letting me know that she was so pretty that they had to look at her too. I laughed the minute I saw that note knowing that some inspector saw the case and said "Hey, this is a guitar. Musician are weird and take drugs, maybe there's drugs in here." Idiots.
As I was saying luggage gathered, we go out to meet our taxi helmed by Helmi. Helmi is a large German woman who could easily play the part of a supporting character in a Grimm Brothers tale. Large, robust with a laugh that was infectious out of fear, hearty with a pinch of dear god she could destroy me. And then there was her taxi. It's a little difficult to call a S class Mercedes station wagon a taxi, but it was. It also does 120mph going down the autobahn. Ah, the days when we get a license here. Lets see if the Cavalier can do 100mph, 120 might be pushing it.
Eventually we made it to the hotel also known as Check Point Bratwurst, brought our belongings in, met Turtle's co-workers and attempted to make it through the rest of the day on no sleep. There were days when I was younger that staying up for 36 hours was easy to do. Caffenine, plenty to eat, a few vigorous jumps, voila awake for another hour. This day though I was walking around with shades on, a 50lb weight around my neck, and my brain being tranquilized by ameoba ninjas. Consciousness was a marathon being run by a man in a potato sack.
I know that other things happened that first day, but its all blurry, like loooking through the windshield during a deluge with the wipers turned off. Colors, shapes, no defining features. Just like a baby views the world. Kind of how like living in Germany is being reborn. A new life, a new country, a new culture, a new language, a new beginning. TIme to take a nap before I get cranky.
posted by Don Taylor @ 10:15 AM,
