Random Observation/Comment #185: When I was in Japan, I was doing weekend day trips like it was my job. I’d take the train for 1.5 hours and walk around a random hike in the middle of nowhere for about 6 hours and still make it home for some dinner. Why don’t I do this now? Hamburg is not as close as I thought it was to all the major cities. 3-hour one-way commutes are not cool and doing this all by myself isn’t as fun as it used to. I don’t mind the train ride, but for some reason, I feel like I need to see the history of a city in groups. I don’t particularly mind nature walks because I take twice as long (from all of the picture-taking), but I rather have the twice as long walks from old German war stories or adventures about traveling.
This particular day trip was one that I would not forget. There are some details about a certain random girl intentionally spilling beer all over me, which I will omit for this blog entry, but overall, it was pretty kickass. I met up with Andy, the guy I met in Interlaken (I know, how crazy is that?) and he basically showed me a shortened version of the free tour. As we had already crossed paths, he tolerated my picture obsessions and told many of the interesting historical tidbits about the area. The stories would be repeated in the actual tour during the University trip a week later, but the more fun stuff was the exploration of the famous Berlin nightlife with a good wingman.
I knew it was easy to meet people in hostels, but I didn’t know that flocks of beautiful women sit around the common area around 8PM starting the pregame drinks. I might be going out on a limb, but I think this pregame exchange of names and travel stories was more enjoyable than the club scene with deafening music and faded denim jeans from the excessive grinding (she basically hand washed the thighs of my jeans with her sweat and some beer – no complaints). We drank a few bottles of wines (each) and then wandered the streets following different crowds to do some old-fashion club crawling (it’s exactly how it sounds by the end).
It was during this deeply profound and drunken conversation with Andy, that we realized the quintessential key to a successful club hook-up. It’s so simple and everyone does it, but no one actually has written it as one of the rules. The key is: Know the girls you want to hook-up with before you enter the club. This way, once you’re in the club, you have become a “familiar” since you were already screen-checked at the door. Even if it’s some loose connection in a large crowd, a girl would most likely choose to dance to avoid dancing with strangers. If you met at the same hostel, it just adds that extra convenience factor. Check and mate (get it?).
We had realized that we were already preparing for such a technique all along, but now that we had solidified it as a hypothesis, it was time for some trials. We went to the Diamond Club north of Alexander Platz and next to a Chinese-like restaurant called “White Trash Fast Food.” It’s difficult to explain the details, but the aftermath should paint a picture. I still think the bad luck spawned from the fact that I wore my Diesel shoes. Whenever I bring something that I don’t want to get dirty, they always wind up being brought along to the worst situations. I’m still trying to wash off the puke, beer, and wood chips that these troopers have gone through.
Apparently, the loud music and high concentrations of alcohol tend to make girls overreact to half-heard, misunderstood conversations. I don’t know how I got the reaction where she proceeded to throw a beer at my Armani pullover, but she probably misheard me say something as bad as: “you’re f-ugly and I wouldn’t do you with a 5-foot pole. Oh, and you have fake eye-lashes.” In real life, she was a very nice girl and I was just complimenting her on looking rather stunning for the night’s events. Now that I think back at it, it was pretty funny. She might have thought I was someone else, but either way, I wound up alone on a train at six in the morning.
Honestly, I could not even scratch the surface of Berlin’s history or major landmarks with a full day’s walk. The nightlife, on the other hand, was probably enough to keep my feet off the dance floor and away from dangerously drunk girls for quite some time. I didn’t sleep for 24 hours, and there was a lot of frustration and confusion between misread signals, but I would definitely do it again. The only problem is that the day-trip railpass really defeats the purpose because I had to use two days for the commute. I guess it was nice sleeping on the train and smelling like beer.
~See Lemons Run back and forth
(Write time: 37 minutes)