Right, so new year's eve. Since my normal friends are all home for the holidays, i wasn't quite sure what I was going to do for the evening. The americans are still around of course, and then the other day I got a surprise phone call from Sven...let's see. Sven and I met...well not really...at karaoke at an irish bar. He was sitting at the table next to ours with a girl and they wrote out a slip to request to sing but they refused to turn it in so we turned it in for them. And then we realized that they had requested "stairway to heaven" which in my opinion is a horrible song to sing karaoke to. No wonder she was so mortified. And lame Sven refused to sing with her, so my friend Nicole who was visiting consented to sing along. At any rate I never actually spoke with this Sven but at the end of the night the girl came up to me and asked me for his phone number for him and said something about my eyes. I gave it to her... and then he didn't call me. But coincidentally my friend had gotten his email address because she had taken pictures of the girl singing karaoke and at this point my curiosity was piqued, so i emailed him. He told me i'd given him the wrong number, which I had already thought i might have done, and we met up. But we only hung out a couple of times and then didn't see eachother for a while, so I was quite surprised when he called.
Phew, back in the present. So he mentioned that he had some friends in town and asked if i'd like to come out with them. So I went along, and brought another american friend Christy. It was a low-key evening, and after his rather unfriendly friends from Cologne left, things got going and I got talking to Artur, another friend of the girl. By the end of the evening we'd hit it off (and I learned that he'd just broken up with his girlfriend of six years. six years! jeez!!) and he invited christy and i to his new year's party. Perfect! So on new year's we found ourselves at the apartment of a very nice guy who had just been dumped by his six year girlfriend, and whose apartment actually still belonged to the girlfriend but she was away for the time being and he was staying there until he found a new place. And there were only about 10 people there...but everyone was nice, and there was Raclette to eat, and interactive food is always delicious. So we stayed but had promised to meet the americans for fireworks and midnight. So we left with promises to come back, and took the train to olympiazentrum (the site of the 1972 olympics, the fated ones, and where i play unterwasserhockey). And wow. It was like a war zone. Fireworks are totally legal and apparently that means that everyone should have some, because i think everyone did. And not tiny things. Not bottle rockets. Giant rockets, huge exploding things. Everywhere. By 11:55 our view over munich was an unbelievably spectacular panorama of nothing but fireworks. At midnight it was so loud we couldn't speak. At 12:05 we couldn't see anything because of the smoke. Nothing. It was incredible, and more incredible still was that we remained alive and fully limbed. People were shooting fireworks out of their mouths. There's something about alcohol and crowds that makes people think they're invisible.
And then in a champagne-drunk-muddy (it was raining, thank god for the fire risk, and we sat on my twister mat which got muddy anyways thus our muddy state) state we walked back to the subway and proceeded to fight insane crowds (and i proceeded to suffer an incredible need to pee, which I survived but barely) back to the party, where christy, robert and robert's friend stopped by shortly but then departed to make the last train and I, as always, stayed because they offered me a sofa and fun and sofa is better than no fun and train ride home. It was fun, and in the morning we all went out to breakfast. Me and Niels, Martin, Artur and Andreas, an upright group of german guys. Wahoo for more friends! At any rate I left my digital camera at Artur's which means that i can't post any pictures but also means that i've been invited over to cook dinner with him on wednesday, so i can get my camera. Not too shabby...
And on thursday I have an interview with the paper, because apparently it's newsworthy to be an american exchange student living in a tiny dorf called feldafing and playing unterwasserhockey. They want to publish that embarassing photo of me. Should I let them? ayayay. This is going to haunt my political career forever, I know it ;-)