Happy New Years! Slide Well as they say here. I can’t believe I am still alive today! Last night was nuts. These Germans love shooting fireworks at EACH OTHER!!! The girls, I and Bjorn went rolling down to some bar right on the Main River last night. Apprehensions were high when we arrived at 9pm to a scene that had no pulse. Even the guy at the door seemed surprised we were there, but we sat down early and got a bottle of champagne anyways. Soon enough, the place was packed and we had moved on from champagne to a harder variety; vodka. Why is vodka itself cheap but when you add the two words Red Bull in front, it becomes 10 euro? I know how much a red bull costs, and that’s exactly why I BYORB bitch! Bjorn and I would rotate paying up for a 3-shot glass of vodka, and then play bartender under the table with the Red Bull I purchased for 1.50. Pretty soon, we were snapping pictures, inspiring our girls to,” act like you’re about to bang the guy, you unzip his fly and….and…you can’t find it! It’s WAYYYY too small. Give me that look! Ready! 3-2-1.” For a whole hour we played that game to the consternation of the tables around us. Yes, we were THAT table. Explosions of too loud laughter, breaking the cool code with a variety of unsavory facial expressions, camera flash going off every 5 seconds like a Japanese tour group, speaking as if we didn’t care because we REALLY didn’t! If only all my Saturdays could be spent almost urinating in my pants from laughter! All that changed quickly, when everyone in the place cleared out to hit the streets. Outside, in a scene straight out of Syria, there was all out war. A mob of Frankfurters had gathered at the River Main to view the fireworks as they do every year, and they came armed with every firework known to man. M-80’s, black cats, and mortars, were firing from every conceivable angle. It was a full on artillery barrage! With not a cop in sight, it was every man, women and child!? ( what the hell were they doing here?) for themselves. Impromptu firework displays began to pop up like dance circles at a rave. Everyone in the mob was drinking or drunk. Pretty soon groups began to square off like in some demented musical, firing anything that could inflict bodily harm. I began of course filming the drunk mayhem earnestly. Out of the corner of my eye, a young Turkish youth tired to throw an M-80 in our vicinity, but the butter fingers got him. As I was wiping my brow in relief, the fiend looked up to see me eyewitness news'ing his ass. A sinister smile soon developed on his face as I panned away to more of the debauchery. I now of course knew who HE was aiming at. Pretty soon thereafter, 3 rows of people that were in front of me soon weren’t. A bottle rocket made a b-line right for my leg. With Chuck Norris like agility, I boot stomped the projectile into the street, and went looking for the Kebab kid. But I would have been better off looking for an Italian who doesn’t talk without rapid hand movement. He and his gang of merry twits had vanished in a swirl of firework fog. Off to go car-jack some poor defenseless grandpa. Happy New Year dickwad!!! Then the finale went off. A thick San Francisco mist began to drift over the entire area, straight out of some colonial battle field. My body began to convulse unexpectedly, as Bjorn poured a half bottle of champagne into my already FULL glass. PTSD? No, thank god. I just needed to piss. Pretty soon, the madness was over, and the masses made for the trains. Vio, Emily, and I consequently lost everyone we were with. Shortly after that, I lost my glasses. Damn it. Not the greatest encore of the evening ever, but the night was one of the most culturally enriching new years I’ve ever had to date.
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