Opening night was a success.
Everything went as it was supposed to, and except from the times when Frau Gabor spilled lemonade and loudly exclaimed "Ach!" before mopping it up with her apron, the Vermummte Mann tripped over his own feet, Frau Bergmann ran over the grave, and Ernst and Hänschen were slightly taken aback by the size of the grapes they were supposed to be eating and looked like hamsters for a short minute, there were no accidents.
Being college students, we went out to celebrate afterwards.
The rest of the night was, to say the least, interesting.
It was my first experience with alcohol outside of a family environment. After half a glass of beer, I was giggling helplessly at every sentence. My German improved dramatically.
As the rest of the cast got progressively drunker, someone suggested that, as I had only had half of a beer, I drive everyone home. Lacking a legal license and considerably more inebriated than is proper when one is technically underage, I refused and suggested that we call a designated driver service to take us home safely (although now that I think about it, my permit requires a 'licensed operator over 21' in the front seat, which could have made it a last resort possibility, but in any case it would not have been a good idea for several hours at least). Fortunately, another cast member and a friend arrived late and were immediately requisitioned to relocate the bunch to someone's apartment close to campus.
After several drives to and fro, everyone was safely sitting on a couch in a living room. Bottles appeared, and soon we were back to debating the grammatical structure of the German language and the merits of various adaptations of the play.
When a baggie of green leaves made an appearance, however, I stood up, grabbed, despite his protests, the other young'un who lived on campus, bid good night to the company, and walked home.
When I arrived back to my dorm, in severe need to answer the call of Nature, I was greeted by a surprise: the bathroom door wouldn't open.
I typed in the code again. The red light blinked back at me. I pressed the star, then slowly repeated. Nothing. Thinking that maybe the vapors were making my brain go funny, I went to my room, looked up the university housing website, wrote down the code on a piece of paper, and went back to the bathroom.
No success.
I gave up. I ran downstairs and across the street into the nearest building, which happened to be the business school. I finally found a restroom.
This morning, I told Roommate about my mishap. She told me that the code had, for some reason, stopped functioning that evening. And then she pointed out that the other bathroom down the hall used the same code, which worked.
I felt very silly.
And I probably won't repeat that experience for some time.
Everything went as it was supposed to, and except from the times when Frau Gabor spilled lemonade and loudly exclaimed "Ach!" before mopping it up with her apron, the Vermummte Mann tripped over his own feet, Frau Bergmann ran over the grave, and Ernst and Hänschen were slightly taken aback by the size of the grapes they were supposed to be eating and looked like hamsters for a short minute, there were no accidents.
Being college students, we went out to celebrate afterwards.
The rest of the night was, to say the least, interesting.
It was my first experience with alcohol outside of a family environment. After half a glass of beer, I was giggling helplessly at every sentence. My German improved dramatically.
As the rest of the cast got progressively drunker, someone suggested that, as I had only had half of a beer, I drive everyone home. Lacking a legal license and considerably more inebriated than is proper when one is technically underage, I refused and suggested that we call a designated driver service to take us home safely (although now that I think about it, my permit requires a 'licensed operator over 21' in the front seat, which could have made it a last resort possibility, but in any case it would not have been a good idea for several hours at least). Fortunately, another cast member and a friend arrived late and were immediately requisitioned to relocate the bunch to someone's apartment close to campus.
After several drives to and fro, everyone was safely sitting on a couch in a living room. Bottles appeared, and soon we were back to debating the grammatical structure of the German language and the merits of various adaptations of the play.
When a baggie of green leaves made an appearance, however, I stood up, grabbed, despite his protests, the other young'un who lived on campus, bid good night to the company, and walked home.
When I arrived back to my dorm, in severe need to answer the call of Nature, I was greeted by a surprise: the bathroom door wouldn't open.
I typed in the code again. The red light blinked back at me. I pressed the star, then slowly repeated. Nothing. Thinking that maybe the vapors were making my brain go funny, I went to my room, looked up the university housing website, wrote down the code on a piece of paper, and went back to the bathroom.
No success.
I gave up. I ran downstairs and across the street into the nearest building, which happened to be the business school. I finally found a restroom.
This morning, I told Roommate about my mishap. She told me that the code had, for some reason, stopped functioning that evening. And then she pointed out that the other bathroom down the hall used the same code, which worked.
I felt very silly.
And I probably won't repeat that experience for some time.
2 comments:
Excellent. So glad everything went well. And in the morning you were the one who was still happy. As we say in NZ 'Good on ya.'
Well done - in all respects!
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