I feel I shouldn’t even be surprised by my own spontaneous actions by now.. Yet somehow I am. I mean, over the cause of the two years I’ve been doing this blog, I’ve related some pretty outrageous tales: shoot fighting with Dunkel on early summer mornings, performing horrible karaoke acts with Zascha (you’ll forever be my teenage dirtbag, baby!), navigating home by the sun from road trips gone horribly wrong with Tina, getting called out by my professor after referring to him as “Gaylord” on this very blog (We love you, Mr Kier!) .. You’d think I’d done it all.. But not quite so.
Today I ended up leaving the country much against my will and plans and returning home hours later, a broke and happy man packing six cases of beer, single malt whisky, rum and a Nintendo Wii of all things.
It began as any other Monday: I half fell half staggered out of bed at the sound of my alarm clock, once again cursing myself for not being able to get more than a couple of hours of sleep on Sundays. I began the usual morning ritual of letting the coffee brew while trying not to fall asleep in the shower, then eat a quick breakfast before running out the door, dashing back in to leave the toothbrush still stuck in my mouth and then back out to make my way towards uni.
I arrived in uni in good time just to discover a totally abandoned classroom. I checked the schedule on the door and concluded that, evidently, my classes had been canceled. Cursing God and several minor deities, I walked back down the stairs where I ran into Christian who had apparently gotten the memo either. Together we ventured back up the stairs and Christian led me to another room where, lo and behold, my entire class had assembled. Okay, so apparently room 1.71 is right next to room 1.72 and to a tired Johan they look surprisingly alike. Esh, well, at least then I didn’t have to worry about missing out on five hours of exciting classes.
I somehow made it through the day even with my class mate Chris Bruhn making several resentful and threatening remarks to me on account of some pictures from the weekend I’d published on Facebook. Apparently I’m an asshole for partying with super cute and super hot chicks in skimpy school girl uniforms without letting him know.. But hey, that’s how I roll.
Aaanyways, so yea, I made it through the day, walked out into the
beautiful day pouring rain and went on down to the post office to mail some pictures I’d had developed for my uncle. While there, I got an SMS from Dunkel saying that Robert and him were heading to Germany on account of their classes being canceled. Naturally, I didn’t want to let the chance go, so I asked them to zoom by and pick me up. Robert agreed on the condition that I used the words water pipe at least three times in conversation during the trip.
So it was in this way that I ended up standing outside my house in the rain at 4 PM, waiting for Dunkel and Robert and thinking of ways to possibly fit the words water pipe into daily conversation. My thought process was interrupted by a rather irregular engine sound as a small greenish three-door car pulled into the drive way. The passenger door opened and Dunkel half emerged, half stumbled out of the car, pointing for me to get in the back.
Now, I’m by no means a large man, but suffice to say is that I did have some trouble fitting in the door. Of all the small cars I’ve ever been on the backseat of this was probably the smallest and most ghetto-rigged of the bunch. I ended out half-stumbling my way in much in the way Dunkel had emerged and then ended up being irrevocably locked in place as a much larger Dunkel slammed the seat back and got back in.. Boy was this gonna be some ride! Surprisingly we made it all the 100 meters up the hill I live on without stalling more than once and surprisingly enough, I didn’t feel too weirded out that Dunkel and Robert all the while was conducting a conversation in English employing heavy mock Chinese accents.
At the top of the hill, Robert asked – over the hissing of the car’s blown out sound system trying to render an already horrible version of “Drops of Jupiter” – if someone else thought the engine sounded a little strange. I ventured that I thought it sounded okay.. for a Massey Fergusson, and we pressed on. Apparently the boys had ordered pizza and needed to pick it up before we moved on. So we drove down town, found the place, realized we had to make a U-turn before being able to pick up our food and turn back.. So Robert made to turn, realized that we were out of space and in a snap decision charged forwards and landed us, tiny car and all, on the sidewalk! I only barely had time to remark that this was probably not a good place to be and that we’d need to back up because the drop in front of us (back to street level, that is) was pretty steep. Before I did protest too much, Robert revved it up and sent our little car with our added ballast of some 300 kgs of metal heads flying through the air and back down onto the street, threw the wheel over and made a spiffy turn which actually got us facing in the right direction.. Only problem was that with all the running and driving, jumping side walks and what have you, we were now heading down the wrong direction on a one way street with a bus coming towards us. The situation seemed critical but somehow Robert pulled through, scraped another corner and another sidewalk and got us to a safe stop along the curb.
As the boys got out to get their pizza, I heard Dunkel making several remarks about the unlikeliness of Robert actually having a license. Me, I had no choice but to stay in my tight quarters, even with the two large men in front gone, I was still pretty well locked in between the back seat, Dunkel’s seat and various debris which just happened to be laying around in the car. Anyways, the boys soon returned, we kicked back on track and eventually made it on out to the freeway where Robert actually managed to get our tiny ride up to a 100 km/hr as we tore down the south-bound freeway in the shape of a green bolt of lightning, Motörhead’s “The Ace Of Spades” churning from the speakers which, like the car (and my spine) had seen much better days.. But fuck it, we were road trippin’!
We made a stop before the border to withdraw some cash from an ATM due to the fact that apparently Burger King in Germany don’t do VISAs, and BK is what we want when given the choice. Anyways, this whole ordeal went reasonably well. I certainly wasn’t seen chasing a DKK 100 bill through the streets of a God-forsaken Danish town with what seemed like every person in town showing up to watch the spectacle.
We crossed the border in good style and went for our first rest stop.. A small retail store where we bought some (i.e. six cases) of beer for Tina and I, some vodka for the boys, a Havana Club 3 years for me and my beloved Mojitos and Cuba Libres.. Oh, and we also got just about the gayest Ritter Sports we possibly could. For some reason Dunkel really wanted to sample the Eggnog and Crunchy Strawberry varieties which meant that we ended up standing around outside sharing oddly pastel yellow and bright pink chocolate squares. Much to the bewilderment of the local rich boys.
Oh, but this was only our first stop. There was more to come. Dunkel guided us on to some other shop that he wanted to visit, and once again, we arrived in style. Well, that is to say we arrived, parked, Robert pulled the keys from the ignition and the engine kept running.. “Well, this isn’t good,” he then remarked and I’d have to agree. With Dunkel having already out of the car, the only thing to do was for Robert and I to risk whiplash injuries by trying to forcefully stall the car. Which must’ve looked more than a little weird to Dunkel who did, however, laugh his ass off when we finally emerged after three tries of stalling the car to explain to him just what the fuck we’d been doing.
Well, that was it, another store down, another couple of embarrassing moments in the bag. We did our shopping and moved on to Burger King where I got to have fun trying off my super rusty German in front of a young girl in training.. Which, in case you were wondering was just another embarrassing moment waiting to happen as she’d no basic idea about how to take an order and I’d no basic idea about how to place one, certainly not in German! We did end up getting our food, though.. Some more than others. Robert and I got normal value meals (and by that I mean, of course, super size!) whereas Dunkel though it okay to get a super sized value meal, another burger (double) on the side plus a side order of jalapeño poppers.. But then, Dunkel’s a fat-ass, I’d never do any such thing.. Ahem!
Following our meal.. And several complaints from Dunkel about being full, we went on to the last stop of the evening. One last store and one last bottle of booze (or two, or.. well, you get the picture) before heading home. After all, the time was now also rapidly approaching 8 and it was getting dark outside. The trip home actually went pretty well aside from Dunkel showing his complete lack of ability to multitask as he proved incapable of writing an SMS and giving directions at the same time.. So we kinda got lost a little but soon came back on track and arrived home safely about an hour later.
And this is where things twisted a little further. Robert for some time now has suggested that I buy his Wii since I’ve been sorta interested in getting one and he’s been kinda interested in getting rid of one.. So since Dunkel and him were heading back to his place to pick up an Xbox anyways, he suggested I headed along and borrowed the Wii for a few days to test it out and see if I liked it. Well, I’d be stupid not to. So I’m now the proud owner of a Nintendo Wii.. At least temporarily. But really, I reckon I’ll have a hard time letting it go again.. Damn you, Robert, damn you to hell!