…except I didn’t. After a particularly long week, I skipped out of school at 5, ate an early dinner of leftovers, camped out on my couch, and was pleasently surprised to find a Phillies/Yankees spring training game on my computer. I enjoyed watching a few innings before sleep overtook me. An hour and a half later, the phone jolted me from my sleep, and in another 15 minutes my apartment was full of people from school. Karaoke was on the menu, but a place couldn’t be found, so we decided to have a guy’s night out at Wieden Brau.
We found a table easily for the 5 of us. I recommended the Dunkles, but the waiter said they were out. Sad. So we all picked other drinks, which looked surprisingly similar when he finally brought them. And tasted quite similar as well. 20 minutes later we decided to order two “Chicken Baskets”. This was one of two things on the menu written in English, which I found odd considering there actually is a German word for chicken and basket. The waiter apologized and said that the kitchen was closed. This was also disappointing.
15 minutes later a group of young Austrians came in and sat at the table next to us. In another 10 minutes they had cheeseburgers and chicken baskets(CHICKEN BASKETS!) placed in front of them. We called over their waiter and asked how come they got food and we couldn’t? He said he was sorry, but the kitchen was REALLY closed now and there wasn’t anything he could do. Incredulous and annoyed that our waiter had lied to us, we got up to seek out a late night hot dog. Then we saw the other waiter bring a really dark mug to the same table, so we asked the waiter if that was the Dunkles. He said yes, and it was a good thing our waiter had already left. Lied to twice! Can you believe it? It was hard to be really upset about the whole episode because it really was kind of amusing. I mean how often do you go to a restaraunt and are lied to by a waiter?
We laughed about it as we tracked down a hot dog stand at Schwedenplatz that would actually sell us hot dogs. For some reason I ended up with a hot dog that came sliced on a plate instead of in a bun. Oh well. Then a piece fell off my plate on the ground, so I bent to pick it up and the rest of my hot dog fell on the ground. Repeatedly citing the ’10 second rule’ I picked up the pieces of my hot dog and continued eating them as we walked back to my apartment.
At the curling match I think I caught a glimpse of the bottom rung of the zamboni hierarchy. Is there some kind of promotion track this guy is on? If so, what’s the next step in the hierarchy?
So my roommate John and I decided we needed to go to the Olympics. After all Italy borders Austria, so it’s relatively close, right? And I have the brilliant idea that we need to see Olympic curling. Among the many advantages of curling are that it’s indoors and it’s the cheapest ticket at the games. Also, for some reason I have an odd fascination with the game. I blame this on the Canadian channel during the 1998 Winter Games.
It’s always nice to know you’re loved, even if it is by a bunch of freshmen and middle schoolers. I received many baseball valentines(see below), and here is a smattering of reasons why my students (claim to) love me:
One of my friends at school put up a list in my room to help my students show their appreciation for me on Valentine’s Day. Here’s the list in no particular order: