The Scarriest Weekend Of My Life

Welcome and Introduction

The title of today's entry implies that there are bad things to come. This would not be a false assessment. But alas, I am a very obsessive compulsive person. So although it feels terribly trivial writing about other things before we reach this climax, the format of the blog has been chronological thus far, and therefor shall remain so.

Blacksburg: A Special Place

Wal-Mart: The Anti-Place



Ordinance 1450 Passes Unanimously

Rejoice! For on Tuesday evening (Eastern Daylight Time) the Blacksburg Town Council voted to protect the ever-so volatile character of our town by passing an ordinance which limits the development of retail stores over 80,000 square feet. This has been on my mind for a while, even though I had enough faith in the council to do the right thing. Earlier this week I awoke from a nightmare that The Lyric (our historic, community-owned, not-for-profit movie theater) had closed down. It was a very vivid dream: I remember that the marque read "The End." As soon as I awoke I looked out my window, thanked whatever higher being I may or may not believe in that I am in Dresden (I actually do this several times a day, or hour for that matter) and went to the Lyric's website to reconfirm that it was, in fact, a dream. So despite the fact that I am living in the closest thing to a utopia which I could ever imagine exists on this planet, my emotional attachment to Blacksburg still runs strong. The idea that this town, which means so much to me and so many others, is seen as something to be mined for profit by a group of soulless capitalists in Bentonville, Arkansas just makes me sick.

Worse yet is that if Wal-Mart were to move into town, it would probably financially succeed. This brings us to a greater problem. Virginia Tech is home to 25,000 students, many of whom were raised in suburbs under a value structure which tells them to point their steering wheel in the direction of the lowest price available without a second thought. The value of community is rapidly declining in America. Instead of paying enough taxes to make our communities better places to live, we would rather save a few bucks for that new wide-screen television.

Fine, fine... Back to Dresden...

Friday - Evening in Neustadt with Ohioans

The Stoop moves to the second floor

The time was 18:00, and I was doing as anyone else would be at this time of evening on a Friday: Ready Aldous Huxley's "Brave New World." That is, until I hear a knock on my door. It's Jess.
"Hey, Jess, how are you doing?" I inquire.
"Fine. I'm ready to drink."
Fair enough. This is more akin to the kind of things I am used to hearing from my friends in Blacksburg; but hey, we're young. In all fairness, Jess did not get into town until Monday evening and has been working very long hours ever since. She has not had time to sit back, relax, socialize, and most importantly, get over her jet lag. So we go up to Teri's room and share a bottle of wine while we plan out the rest of the evening. Unfortunately one small bottle of wine doesn't go far between three young people, so we had to go to the grocery store to purchase more. On our way out, we happened to run into some people from Ohio we had met a week ago. They are here to teach English as a second language to middle school children. What brave souls. So we join them on "the rock garden," which is eerily similar to the Pritchard Stoop. Our building has a single-story entryway, the gravel-covered roof of which can be accessed via the second-floor balcony. We hung out there and had a few beers before we went out for the evening.

We Cross the Elbe

We made an amazing discovery this evening that the tram is free if you don't pay for it. I don't plan on making a habit of this for two reasons: First of all, I feel bad mooching off of socialism, and secondly, it is unnerving to sit on a tram knowing that you are there illegally. We met some high school students on board who found it very humorous that we were actually talking that funny way that they have been learning about in second period.

After we made it to Neustadt, we began our evening in a civilized manner, by having another drink in a biergarten. We relaxed, and then many of us felt hungry. What do young people do in German cities when they get hungry at night? Eat doener, of course!

Large Group Syndrome

After eating doener amidst the most colorful of doener stand owners, we decided it was time to go dancing. Out of character, you say? Well, let me ask you this: When have I ever lived in a place where dancing was really an option? At this point, our group was about ten strong. Not for long, as apparently we disagreed on how to get to the place where we wanted to dance. So by the time we finally arrived at a bar with a D. J. and a dance floor, we were down to about six. As soon as we arrived, Emily, Teri and I immediately grabbed beers and hit the dance floor. We went to check on the others; but alas, they were nowhere to be found.

On the walk back, we agreed that although we had fun, it wasn't too great of a time. They played a lot of cliche, English-language dance music, and there were far too many males on the dance floor. At one point a mosh pit broke out, and worse yet, some creepy guy started hitting on Emily, which she did not appreciate. Did I step in, act tough, and reinforce that she was not interested like any good male friend should? Ha ha, you guys know me better than that. I just continued to dance awkwardly until the situation had blown over.

Saturday - You Cruel, Cruel Saturday

The Cycle Trip to Meissen Begins

On Saturday, Emily and I finally decided to make our long-planned cycling trip to Meissen a reality. It started off as a wonderful day. It began at Emily's flat where we packed sandwiches, as this just seemed like one of those "pack sandwiches" type of days. I must say I am quite jealous of where Emily gets to live. She lives with three authentic German people in a more authentic part of the city which was not destroyed by the firebombing. When I looked out her window, the view inspired the same observation as when I first looked out of the window of my brother's relatively new row-house residence. That is, you are immediately confronted with a close-up image of architecture which does not let you forget what city it is that you live in. Although this is even better, as her street exhibits vertical mixed-usage (that is shops on the ground floor with three floors of apartments above). I would take this over the aerial view from my GDR commie high rise any day.

Windmill Sandwiches

We knew this trip would take longer than the hour and a half or so it would normally take to cycle 30 km on a flat river trail because we would be taking in the gorgeous scenery that awaited us after every bend. Just five minutes into the journey, I saw an image which I have dreamed about and associated with the European countryside ever since I was aware of the presence of land on the opposite side of the Atlantic Ocean. This image is that of a traditional dutch-style windmill set back in a meadow. We could not resist the urge to frolic.



And what a better way to continue basking in the presence of this windmill than Windmill Sandwiches?



Disaster.

We said goodbye to our wind mill and continued up the trail towards Meissen. Everything was going well. We were having a great time, and the countryside was beautiful. About four kilometers away from Meissen, I look behind me to see if Emily is keeping up on her GDR commie-bike only to find that she and her bike are down on the ground. She was not wearing a helmet. Terror shot through my heart. Is she okay? Well, she's conscious. That's a start. What do you do in this situation? What the hell do you do? I offer her water. She is unable to accept. When she is finally able to speak, I am even more scared. It reminded me of speaking to my eighty-year-old grandmother. But Emily is not eighty years old. She is my friend, my peer.
"Where are we?"
"About 4 km from Meissen."
"Are we riding to Meissen?"
"We were, yeah."
"And how far are we?"
"About 4 km."
"How far are we from Meissen?"
"About 4 km."
She could hardly recollect any details of our cycling trip: It was all a dream. What windmill?

I am panicking.

We Need Help

Luckily German people like to cycle, so the trail is not a lonely place. People began to crowd around as they passed to ask us if we needed help. This is always tricky in a situation like this: Do we need medical attention? The safest answer is always "yes." An ambulance is called.

The medical crew spoke English and the people who called for us were on hand to help with further translations. I sat there on the side of the trail not really knowing what to do, albeit slightly satisfied that Emily was in the best place she could be at this time, under these circumstances: in an ambulance. I was not surprised to learn that I would not be allowed to ride in the ambulance, and was given cycling directions to the Dresden Neustadt Hospital twenty kilometers away. After the police arrived and the ambulance and rescue crews cleared away, I begin riding in the direction of the hospital.

CRACK.

My chain broke. My friend was being transported to a hospital twenty kilometers away and my damn chain broke.

The Back of a German Police Car

I flag down the police car that had come to assist. Neither of the policemen spoke a word of English. I show them to broken chain and they comprehend. I am driven to a police station.

No one here spoke any English either. They sit me down at a table opposite a policeman and photocopy my passport (If my chain never broke, I would not have been here to begin with, right?). He starts making phone calls. The only word I can understand is the word "English" itself. Finally, he is successful. The police wanted a simple statement from me and had to get it via a speaker phone translator. After they feel satisfied, they walk out to the parking area with my, and wave goodbye. Are you serious? The hospital is still ten kilometers away! At this point I felt I had enough German police for one day, so I pulled out my multi-tool and fixed the chain in their parking area.

The Recovery Begins

I made it to the hospital with no issues after this and could finally rest assured that Emily was going to be okay. I was a bit shaken up last night when I learned from her room mates that she would be spending a second night in the hospital. But alas, although she is bored to tears due to her strict "no reading" order from the doctor, it seems everything will be okay in good time.

Sunday - Solo Trip to Meissen



Saturday was too much for me. I needed some alone time. I grabbed my bike and my headphones and headed where else but Meissen. I was by myself, and had already seen most of the scenery. Not much to talk about here. I wasn't too thrilled with the City of Meissen. Yes, it had narrow streets.



I have always been a strong fan of narrow streets, but perhaps this is one of those good things that only works in moderation. I almost felt claustrophobic navigating the streets, yearning to find the exit to this maze and sit on the wide-open banks of the Elbe. I was probably both the only young person in the whole city as evidenced by the fact that I had to wonder around for 15 minutes before I found a doener stand. That's not the Germany I've come to know and love.

Conclusions and Farewell

This was an emotionally difficult experience for me and, much more so, a physically painful experience for Emily.

To my cycling friends, I know I can't force you to do anything. Even if you think you are somehow invincible and above the laws of physics, I advise you to think about your own safety and about those who care about your well-being:



WEAR A HELMET!!!!!!!!!