1.2: When in Rome…

I’ve only been here for three nights and somehow, I already ended up at a pretty sweet party. Guess things are going better than I thought!

Now, to be clear, it’s not like I was actually invited or anything… Believe it or not, I showed up to complain! I have no idea what the Hell had gotten into me… Is twenty too young to start acting like your parents? God, this is actually kind of embarrassing. I really hope I’m the only one who ends up reading all this…

Anyway, that jetlag really got to me, and for the first couple days, I really didn’t do much – just eat and sleep. I wanted to go out and meet people, see the city… But I was just too damn tired. So tired, in fact, that when the chatter of excited voices and booming of heavy bass woke me up from a sound sleep, I was angry.  And I decided to do something about it.

I rolled out of my sleeping bag, threw on my clothes, and stormed off through the woods to find the party and give them a piece of my mind.

When I finally tracked down the source of all the noise, I expected to find more than just a handful of partygoers, but that’s all there were, really. Less than a dozen of them, laughing, drinking, dancing… and making a Hell of a lot of noise doing it.

But as I walked through the crowd and tried to explain as nicely as I could that their party was keeping me up, I realized something – Almost none of these people spoke English, and my German was so abysmal that every time I tried to express my concerns, I was rewarded with happy smiles and beer after beer shoved into my hand.

And that’s when I decided ‘Screw it. When in Rome…’

Or I guess in this case, ‘When in Windenburg…”