Until the Sun Comes Up

Be patient with me on this one, I'm typing it on a German keyboard.

The Berlin mass-tranist system is a well-oiled, efficient machine, or at least that is what I have heard. My actual experience is that someone chucked a load of rusty forks into the inner workings of this machine, as that's the only thing that can explain the hole in service covering the northeastern portion of the city, where I happen to live. Thursday night, when this public transit vacuum first materialized, a girl named Laura was kind enough to stop and help me find my way home. Last night, I called Laura to see if she wanted to go out that night. I grabbed a buddy and met Laura and a handful of her friends in Kreuzberg for the kickoff of the Kultur Karneval (apparently sponsored by Krusty the Klown). We ended up bar-hopping far into the morning. I will say this: few things are prettier than an old European city in the cold, gray peaceful, light of dawn. But when my alcohol, caffiene, and nicotine-addled body has to find its way home through the shitstorm of railway outages and truncuated bus service, with language skills somewhere around the level of an autistic kindergartner, some of the magic is admittedly lost, especially when I've made it to what I thought was the home stretch only to find that the tram service to my street ended four hours ago at midnight, and I'd have to walk the last few miles. Some sources claim that the aforementioned cold, gray peace was shattered with a resounding and distinctly American-accented ''EEFFFFFFFF!!''

When I finally arrived at home, I noticed that Werner and Irene, whom I have continued affectionately calling my ''GatsGroßeltern'' (host-grandparents), left the porch light on for me. Trained as I am by my own parents to turn it off when I come home, I attempted to do the same here and cringed when I realized I had set off the doorbell, not the lightswitch. I quickly unlocked the door to find Irene, in her pajamas, hurrying down the stairs to see what had happened or let me in if I was locked out. I stammered an apology in both German and English and attempted to explain what had happened, and she smiled and patted me on the head, so I guess all was forgiven. When I finally awoke to the smell of the delicious pasta they had made me for lunch, I gave a more coherent explanation and apology, and they had a good laugh at my expense before telling me not to worry. I got lucky with these two.