So, folks, the new year has come and I skidded into it on the slippery slope of alcohol and a jolly good time. Oh what a good time I had. But before I start telling that tall but true tale, I should mention that almost simultaneously to my decision to start building a life in Berlin for real I finally received the invitation to a job interview -- at home. 2012 thus ended on a very bittersweet note for me.
With this tiny shock to motivate me to make the best of my time here or anywhere, really, I was looking forward to celebrating the arrival of a new year with my friends to the fullest. All the more surprised it turned out we were when we realized after a delightfully normal but fun meal that we might not make it to midnight if we continued sitting in the kitchen. Thus, at about 10 p.m. we decided to move things along and get to the club early, like old people are wont to do.
We arrived at Magnet in Kreuzberg at about 11 p.m., had no problem getting in but experienced a kind of paradoxal universe where outside noone wants in but inside the queue for the coat check was more than ten meters long. So we spent about 20 minutes waiting for our coats to be checked, which turned out not to be too bad because the guys doing the checking were, if not the quickest of the bunch, still friendly and good-natured. After having successfully gotten rid of our outer wear, we fought our way into the smokers' bar and did what you do in said place: have a smoke. And a beer, of course. Then we scouted the other floors, of which we believed there to be two. Only after having gotten our coats before leaving did J finally figure out that there was a third floor which was not the smokers' bar. She, more than B or I, was very upset about not having discovered it before because she found the music coming from that floor to be very danceable. We did, however, have a good time with one of the other floors for the most part of the night, so that while we were dancing we didn't feel like we were missing something.
We spent most of the night at the electro-indielectro-don't-ask-me-I-just-dance floor where we had an extraordinarily good time. And not just because of the music but also because of the delightfully mixed crowd which covered everything from the cool dudes to the mellow hipsters to the relaxingly normal folks to whom I count the three of us. Ages varied comfortingly, too. At midnight there was a countdown and a happy yet non-hysteric shout-out all around. One nice young lady went around the crowd and distributed sparklers to everyone who would have one. It was a nice, very communal atmosphere among a crowd of very different strangers.
Shortly thereafter, four very drunk, very young guys of about twenty years and with hessian bags dangling unmanageably from their arms managed to conquer the slightly elevated part of the dancefloor in one corner and proceeded to have an awesome time among themselves. Not only were they not in the least obnoxious -- as young, drunk men their age very easily turn out to be -- but more than that, they were absolutely adorable and seemed to be very much content in the company of their friends. When one thoroughly likeable young woman danced up on one of the guys, he without hesitation dismissed her in a friendly manner while simultaneously flinging himself into one of his buddy's arms. It was a sight to behold. So much fun and happiness.
After several trips to the toilets for each of us, which took anywhere from five to twenty minutes, we finally decided that it was getting too crowded on our dancefloor and that it would be wise to retire to another part of the room where there was less dancing and more sitting and talking and thus more room. Lest you think that there was also less fun to be had, let me tell you what happened there. First of all, we re-met this Asian guy who was wearing a suit. We had seen him before near our place on the dancefloor. He was with this cool chick with this cool red dress in the style of the fifties. And he was wearing a skinny suit with a skinny tie. They looked like straight out of Kill Bill, but not keenly so. They were just really cool in a very relaxed and non-exerted way. Then there was this slightly weird guy, his head full of unkempt curls, making his way through the sluggish crowd and yelling what I suppose was his girlfriend's name in regular intervals. It wasn't that big a room or that big a crowd. A thorough scanning of the people around you would have yielded the same, and much less noticeable, results. And then there was the couple.
The couple who a few half-hours before happened to situate themselves next to us on the dancefloor and whom I found to be almost unbearably self-centered. He couldn't keep his hands off her, which, granted, is in itself a good thing. But not in the obnoxious, almost domineering way that he did it and which she happened to enjoy. He twirled her around, he grabbed her ass, he grabbed her thighs, he moved her hair, and she obliged. As old and worn out as the phrase is, all I could think was: "Get. A. Room." This was the couple that we encountered in the "chill-out" area of that floor. And if you want to know what happened next, and what happened after J&B left the club and I stayed, and what the indecent proposal was that I received that night and what happened on the train-ride home, you have to check back. More on what the titular "something strange" and who the titular "some strange" was will be coming soon.
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