Home > Germany, Personal > One Night in Munich: A Very Full Friday

One Night in Munich: A Very Full Friday

I have an almost uncanny ability to remember funny things, even, or perhaps especially when I’ve have a drink or two. It’s a useful ability especially after the events of Friday. Simon’s party went off with a bang. Between the incredible nut-cracking efforts and the strange attempts to make things explode with the mind, it’s no surprise to me the beer went so fast. Roberto and I had to cut out at 6 to for our overdue meeting with our landlord, an incredibly old, slow-talking guy whose only job as far as I can tell was to make sure we put our garbage in the right bins and don’t break anything in the place. Simon came back and we said goodbye one last time, although he may be back to get more of his stuff so it might not be too long until we see him again.

Ross had invited Roberto to come out with us but he wasn’t feeling too well so around 9:30 I ventured back onto the trains, beer in pocket for a night on the town (I actually accidentally bought diet beer. A mistake I never want to make again, it’s just awful). I met Ross at his stop and together we made our way to that now familiar apartment, the weekend party pad steeped in beer, fun, and exotic accents. As we walked in, Morgan was winning at Speed, Eva and Mauritz were chatting and smoking in the kitchen, Kristyn was mixing a drink and Fraser was just starting to get ready. Jamie came up not too much later, having gone shopping, and I settled in for a good time. Ross immediately went into picture taking mode (he does so love that flash) while I discussed the merits of various Dutch cities with Roel (apparently Rotterdam is quite nice, and I should visit Utrecht). Barbara, the Dutch girl from the previous night showed up and also gave me some counsel on the Netherlands in between attempting to catch up on drinking and microwaving some leftover noodles to the approximate temperature of the Sun. She probably burned her tongue, and brought her tongue stud dangerously close to the melting point, but she had to eat quickly as it was apparently time to head out. On a side note, the whole just beginning the night out after midnight is vastly amusing to me in light of the incredibly short hours most Bavarian businesses (except restaurants) keep. But it does certainly add something to not go out at night until it’s technically the next morning.

I had no idea where we were going, so I just piled into the taxi van front seat next to Kristyn and watched the pretty lights go by while she went into a complex bilingual with the driver (first in English, and then in German once she suddenly remembered she could speak it). The van stopped and I piled out in front of some club that the group apparently goes to quite frequently. In an eerie repeat of the week before though, we didn’t actually get in. Apparently, according to the bouncer we “didn’t fit the profile.” This could have meant anything from our group was too large, too foreign, not enough girls, or even that he just didn’t like our look. Whatever the real reason, we had no choice but to turn and tromp off through the swirling dry snowfall, avoiding big puddles and frostbite as best we could for the few blocks to Lola Ludwig.

As before, getting in here was not a problem, and thanks to knowing the right people, we didn’t even have to pay.   Unlike the previous weekend, the club was pretty empty, resembling more a restaurant with a dance floor than a night club. To combat our disappointment we all had a shot of Sambucca at one bar and then went to the bar at the back of the club. Somebody started passing along shots again, but as the shots were passed along I somehow ended up holding two, even though everyone already had one. A couple of feet down the bar I saw a pretty girl standing alone. With the standard logic of these situations, I offered her the extra shot. Like any normal human being, she accepted, and we clinked glasses and drank what turned out to be rather watered-down vodka. I introduced myself and she told me her name was Sabine. In between apologizing for her English (it was actually quite good), she told me about herself. From outside Munich, she is training to become a teacher but mostly she wants to travel. I regaled her with anecdotes about America (all true but I don’t know if she believed some of my New York stories) and she told me about life as a German. We were getting along wonderfully, she even convinced her two friends to stay longer so she didn’t have to leave. Alas my group, bored with the admittedly dead scene at the club, wanted to go somewhere else. I convinced Sabine to come along but unfortunately she couldn’t find her friend who had her jacket ticket and when she did ultimately decided she should stay with her friends. So we exchanged numbers and she told me to call her in a couple hours. In a move so classically me I should probably copyright it, I somehow missed a digit in her phone number and so could not actually get a hold of her. In my defense, German phone numbers are much longer than I’m used to but I was quite annoyed at myself. (The story has a happy ending as she ended up texting me the next night, but I still can’t believe what happened).

Hurrying after the group as we once again made our nomadic club migration, I learned we would now go somewhere called Milchbar (Milk Bar in English). The name made me think of “A Clockwork Orange” but Milchbar turned out to be the upstairs of a building where, after paying 6 Euros to get in, we entered an unbelievably tightly packed mob of dancers. I have no idea how big or crowded the club was, but for several of us, it was only thanks once again to Sven’s connections that we got our coats checked.

I was so crowded by people that I didn’t even have to attempt to dance, just let people buffet me rhythmically. Others in the group were better suited to this environment and I very much liked watching Ross again cut a rug, Roel bust a move, and Eva, Morgan, and Barbara prove conclusively that blondes really do have more fun. Kristyn in particular had a memorable night as one young man, blitzed out of his mind I believe, took a real shining to her. He attempted to dance with her many times despite her vociferous rejections, culminating in an unwelcome bosom motor boating that left poor Kristyn sputtering and red-faced. The rest of the group definitively tossed him away and Kristyn attempted to recover from the trauma of it all.

After only an hour I realized the same music was playing as when we came in. Apparently we had heard the entire soundtrack (mostly the expected American pop). I took that as a cue for us to get going. Kristyn, Sven, and I swam through the sea of people trying to drop off and pick up their coats, resorting to elbows if necessary to avoid being crushed by the press. In all the commotion, I somehow ended up outside with Fraser, and Barbara, and no one else. Barbara had abandoned her coat to fate, hoping that Sven would get it, and Fraser the perfect Scottish gentleman lent her his for the brisk walk back to his place.

It was now almost 5 in the morning, and I was tired, plagued by headache, and quite chilly. Fraser, apparently a bed ninja, managed to change into pajamas in the time it took me to cross to the couch and sit down. The rest of the group arrived a few minutes later apparently having taken a cab. Barbara’s coat was not there, but Sven promised to get it for her the next day, for which she was duly grateful. I took some pictures though not everyone (Kristyn) was thrilled about this. Ross, although in better shape than last week, decided it was time to go home though I did my best to convince him to stick around. Jamie was in rather worse shape (there was a rumor his drink had been spiked though I personally can’t imagine how or why that would have happened) and quickly took himself off to bed. Fraser’s bed actually as Barbara and I observed a few minutes later. We were checking on his groans and mutters but it looked like he would live. Eva and Mauritz had left a little earlier than the rest of us and were passed out in his room so I pulled out the couch and lay down myself, hoping for a few hours of rest before having to get up again. I started to drift off but was awoken by voices coming from the kitchen. Morgan and Klaus were talking and I was in the horrible state where I was too tired to get up and either join or ask them to keep it down, too awake to fall asleep anyway, and in too much pain to think of any real solution. I lay in indecisive discomfort for over an hour before a sudden leg cramp gave me the impetus to arise. Of course this was after the talking had stopped anyway but that wasn’t much of a surprise. Seeing as how it was already 8 anyway, I gulped a few glasses of water and absconded leaving the rest of the group asleep (approximately anyway). They apparently did eventually get all the coats back the next night and several people even stayed over again, making their night out nearly 48 hours long. Now that’s a hardcore party.

I managed to get aboard a train back to Garching (and had my ticket checked, but since after Salzburg I always carry a valid one, this didn’t matter) and made my painful way back to the apartment for a shower and a cup of tea before readying myself for a day in Munich. But that’s a story for another blog.

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Categories: Germany, Personal
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