Oh hello, I didn't see you there! Come on in, I'm just musing about my latest adventures here in Bonn. Won't you join me?
Karneval Part 2: Deutschland Boogaloo
After sleeping longer than is healthy or natural on Friday, Kristin came over dressed, to my disappointment, as something other than a Viking. I simply sighed as I painted flowers on her face to pass her off as a "Hawaiian" and then stars on my own to make the least possible effort in becoming a fairy princess. We left for downtown, hoping our plans would take shape on the way. We devoured sandwiches at the bakery and then wandered aimlessly until our group met up at the James Joyce. We looked around at everyone selecting one drink, and took one look at each other before reaching a psychic agreement:
"Let's split a pitcher."
We all sat there, musing about love and loss and all those important things; when my words made too much sense and I felt the conversational was all too logical and not in the least bit emotionally dramatic, I shot a second glance at Kristin:
"Let's split another one."
A pitcher and a half later, I was still in control of my faculties, much to my surprise; at least it seemed this way until we got to Billabonn. Something to remember about Karneval is that there are three songs that every bar in Germany is legally required to play on a constant loop, under penalty of death; interchangeable and repetitive, these songs get more and more tolerable in proportion to beer consumed. Regarding the lyrics, I know when to loudly slur "Viva Colonia!" and thus have enjoyed them quite a bit. We bounced up and down for a good thirty minutes making up our own German words (which were probably offensive) and then decided to make our way over to Carpe Nochtem.
On the way, a brief crisis intervened and the only solution was 50cent pizza. I did not remember this portion of the evening until reminded of it the next day, and I still refuse to acknowledge that I ingested more food that night. Let's prepare to fast forward to Carpe. Fast Forwarding, sir!
We got to carpe, danced a bit with seasonal transvestites (Karneval season, that is)and eventually left to get an early start on parades the next day.
Karneval Part 3: In Which We Get Rejected By Every Mode of Transportation In Cologne
Vanessa and I went to the parade in Tannenbusch, dressed as a pirate and a mouse respectively, and once again surrendered all dignity to dive for generic candies strewn about on the street. I regret nothing. We ate the best sausage you can find on the street (and had some thrown at us from a float!) and then went back to my house for a small party where we would meet Kristin and Chelsea. I was overwhelmed with happiness when I saw the Viking hat once again. We ate like kings, and were forced to take shots of fig-flavored vodka by Petra (Lilo's sister) who told us it would "make us strong." This warranted a response from my two hungover friends of, "Who is that lady? Because I hate her."
We then got on the train to Cologne, looking ridiculous but feeling quite comfortable with our enormous and elaborate costumes; it is a strange feeling to know that you have a three-foot tail trailing behind you and you're not in the least bit out of place. We meant to get to the Geisterzooch (an eco-friendly political event...meaning full of German hippies with no candy) but ended up in Cologne-Sud and came up with the genius idea of patronizing liquor stores and making friends on the street. After shouting at a giant cat, chatting about language with a vampire, and flirting with a train station, we had made enough friends for the night and some of us readied ourselves to head home. For some reason, everyone followed.
After missing the first train, we waited near a cafe for the next, which would be our last moments of fresh air. Upon boarding the train, we were pushed and pressed into the walls like sardines being punished. After ten minutes of struggling to breathe with the doors open, I began to have visions of asphyxiation and pushed my way through the crowd out of the train, ready to wait an hour for the next one. Ryan and Chelsea followed me a few minutes later, and, feeling guilty about all of us standing in the rain, I ran down our options. We decided to find the u-bahn toward Bonn and just take a longer ride, which for the first 30 minutes seemed like an excellent idea. Until it stopped. In Bruhl. In the middle of nowhere. With nothing (but, strangely enough, a James Joyce pub). We were stranded at 1:30am in the rain with nothing but a pay phone in a ghost-town of a train station that wouldn't start up again until 4:30am. Eventually, we got back on the train heading in the opposite direction back toward Cologne to start this wonderful journey all over again.
We got back to the station to see ambulances and masses of people flooding out to the streets from the train station in the confusion of rain and darkness, which alerted my panic button once again as the suggestion of being stranded reentered my consciousness. Eventually, we found out by way of a lovely German woman who acted as my temporary translator, that someone had pulled the emergency brake and the train was stopped a quarter mile ahead and the next one had been canceled. This was the point at which this situation stopped being irritating and started being hilarious; it was coincidentally also the point at which we discussed Ryan's childhood tendency to unwittingly kill hamsters.
Finally, the train backed itself up and we stood as a hopeful crowd waiting for it to open its warm doors and let us get packed in once again. Ironically, I noted, we had left four hours before because the train was too crowded; after all that trouble, it was even more crowded than before. It was, however, a much friendlier crowd who collectively reacted to the slow movements of the train, hoping for a door to open in front of them. After about seven hopeful "Ahhhh!"s and an equal number of disappointed "Ooooh"s, a door opened right in front of us and we grabbed a seat as quickly as possible. Poor Ryan, who had only wanted to eat a döner (a Turkish delicacy) all night, was faced with a large drunken German eating one inches in away from his face. We played a few games of tic-tac-toe on the steamy window with our new German friends, and finally, before I fell asleep, Ryan turned to me and said, "At least we learned a valuable lesson today." "Yes," I replied, "STAY ON THE TRAIN."
Karnval Part 4: Jessica Hides In Bed All Day Useless for an entire day, I enjoyed the hours in my bed reading and chatting online without any facepaint or animal ears on my head.
Join me next time, when I tell you about the last day of Karneval, in which I wear more facepaint and animal ears on my head!
Tschus!
