Day 25: Nurnberg Volksfest

I smell terrible. The reason is simple. They smoke over here, a lot.

Jordan, Eric, Chad, Teasy, and I went to the Volksfest at Nurnberg last night. It is similar to any one of a thousand hill billy redneck carnivals you would find in the dirty South only with a few things that make it all German.

1. Everyone drinks - And when I say everyone, I mean everyone, from kids no more than 12 to teenagers galore. And we are not talking the standard 12 oz'rs of previously mentioned South, or even the tall ones of those in Mississippi, but whole 1 liter masses. These things were huge. I had one with soda in it and I could barely finish the soda, and these teenagers, 16-19, were drinking two or three. Shocking. (I guess this isn't so different than the South)

2. Everyone smokes - and when I say everyone, I mean everyone, from kids no more than 12 to teenagers galore. I don't even think it is a popular or rebellious thing for them to smoke, it is just literally what everyone does. (This isn't either)

3. Everyone loves American music and know the words better than I do. (Or this )

4. Everyone is a lousy dancer. (The following is a very funny story for those people that were there, which means nothing to anyone reading this. My good friend Jordan is a great dancer. If you know him then you understand why, but also know that he is the heart throb of every girl that meets him. He is the perfect Casanova. Tall, dark, handsome, with a winsome personality, smart, helicopter pilot, and most importantly loves Jesus more than anything including his own life. Teasy and I were joking most of the evening about how Jordan's past is one of broken hearts and dashed dreams. So Jordan, being an excellent dancer, one with no shame either, is up on the table just dancing his heart out. As the evening progresses, I notice that more and more girls stop watching the band on stage and start staring at Jordan. The more he danced the more the girls watched him. One girl even poked me and ask that I move so she could have a clear view of Jordan dancing. Jordan even had is own groopies. Five girls came up to our table between sets and asked Jordan for his autograph. They wanted his stinking autograph.) Germans have no rhythm and I do believe that the doctors over here implant a board in the back of every German newborn which inhibits their ability to move with any sort of grace. (Maybe there is no difference at all)

5. Everyone uses hair gel, especially the guys. The mullet still lives, along with the Mohawk and this other one where a guy makes his hair stick straight out in all directions only completely flat on top, sort of like a well used toilet scrubber. (OK, the Germans have us on this one)

As I said, I smell. I was enterprising though because tonight Jordan had an officer's call at the local Irish Pub. I wore the same clothes today as I did yesterday so I fit right in. I also had my first Guiness at an Irish Pub in Germany. Now all I have to do is have a Guiness at a Irish Pub in Ireland then I am set.

Until then and tomorrow.

Jason