The Party, 19 May 2010

Before the party even started, we weren’t sure if we were going to make it. None of us have European sim cards yet, and our combined efforts would not make the pay phone at the youth hostel work. There were picture directions on it, but maybe they forgot to draw out a step. So, basically, we had no way of contacting the students who were to take us to the party. After a second combined attempt, we were about to ask Herr Huger (the boss around here) when he told us the students had already called for us and would pick us up sometime after 7pm. By this time it was after seven pm and we got ready (coats and boots) and waited for any sign of someone looking for someone else to appear in the hostel foyer. This took about an hour.

Finally, Toni came to the foyer and asked if I was an American, and then we all crammed into her car, which her boyfriend drove, and were off. First stop, her apartment to pick up two other girls. Since there were too many of us to fit into one car, we took two shifts. I stayed behind and talked with Jessica. Pretty much all of my first conversations with the other students were like this:

“Toni/Jessica/Theresa/Kara/Andy/Alex/Phillip/Flo/Chris/Sarah/Jullian/Raymond/Ben/Katharina/Pia/Jacqueline/etc.” (yes, these are all the names I can remember from the past 24 hours)

“Kathryn.”

Shake hands.

“How are you?”
“Good, and you?”
“Good. Where do you come from in the States?”

“St. Louis, Missouri, next to the Mississippi.”

“Oh. Is this your first time in Germany?”

“No, fourth time.”

“Oh, wow. And where in Germany?”

I rattle off all the cities and countries I’ve been to.

“Your German is very good. What are you studying?”

“It’s OK. I’m studying German and Education as my majors. And you?”

You get the idea. But then we got in the car and drove a few blocks over to another apartment, to begin drinking before the real party. The Germans mostly hold their liquor very well. Well enough to still dance, order French fries, call a cab, and then give the cabbie directions to our youth hostel by reading a map. Oh, and to not even stumble once in high heels during a ten minute walk through town to the club or “disco” as they’re known here. But anyways, I began and ended my night sober, which went surprisingly well. I expected some peer pressure, which all I had to do was refuse it a second time and that was enough. Quite amazing, but maybe I’m just used to pushy Americans.

Most of the pre-party was spent, for me, looking up songs on YouTube and watching the Germans dance while I talked to those who weren’t dancing. I did allow the German girls to dress me up a little bit by wearing a pink with black stars headband. One boy said it looked very nice with my hair. Whatever. All the girls were dressed up (and half the guys) because the party, which hardly anyone went to, was an Atzem Party. Atzem is a music group here that dresses extremely tacky and sings crazy songs. So, imagine a lot of 80’s fashion (neon colours and all) mixed with completely mismatched outfits. But I wore the headband to fit in more, since if I had had warning, I would have done my best to dress tacky.

Around eleven pm, when most everyone was pretty drunk, it was time to walk to the real party. So we walked in the cold, wet night through the pedestrian zone of the city to KingsClub. On the way we stopped at an Pizza/Doener Kebap stand. The girls wanted some French Fries and I made Dan eat something, since he was all pink cheeked and overly merry from his alcohol intake. We ordered Dan a Doener, which he adored, and I quote, “I could eat this every day!” I don’t know if he remembers saying that. But onto the club.

This is the oddest nightclub I have ever been in. The hoards of people dressed tacky did not help. The main dance floor was decked in long fringe separating the small couches and tables, fog machines would randomly go off, disco lights, Aztec pyramids painted on the walls, and four huge statues of the Egyptian Dog God of the Underworld (whose proper name I can’t remember) whose heads moved and their eyes glowed red. After paying to get in, observing the dance floor for a while, getting suckered into one last dance, finding out we had to pay a drink cover charge (paying 2.50 euros even if we didn’t drink anything) to get out, finding Toni (the girl who got us there), Toni figuring out how to call a cab and doing so, waiting for the cab, getting lost with the cab driver, and finally finding home, we looked at the time and saw it was just after midnight. And we had to get up at 7:20 am.

One note about the club before I move on: Only in Germany will you witness a bunch of young drunk people enthusiastically dancing to the songs “La Macarana” and “Bad Boys.” I don’t think they know that these songs are popular anymore, or are the theme song of the tv show, “Cops.”

Anyways, the cabdriver home was very nice, though she had no idea there even was a youth hostel in town. After getting lost, she stopped the fare machine and got us home, which we paid 19.50 for three people. Not bad, but I do wish we didn’t have to pay it. Oh well.