The Germany Chronicles, Chapter 1: The Welcome Wagon, Part 2

Colder than Athens? -- yeah, whatever! After about 20 motor butt Jinny steps, I was soon regretting all the new thermal underwear I had layered on my body. My perspiration was soon forgotten when I finally turned around to glance back at the enormous train station we just exited. It was my favorite kind of architecture -- old and well built. No plastic, no gaudy electronic signs, and no vinyl! I quickly started furiously snapping photos like a Sports Illustrated photographer at a basketball game (with the exception of no balls and nothing remotely animated).

As we slowly made our way into the center of the city, I continued to snap more and more photos -- "oh strange pigeon in cigarette butts", "wow, lifesize toy police car", "lookee, weird tree!" Everything, including the air, was suddenly camera-worthy. I eventually reeled myself in, remembering that I hate tourists, and worse yet, I hate looking like a tourist when I had spent hundreds of dollars on black dressy clothing to "blend" in. With map hidden in pocket, we began our search for *really* old structures. We soon found ourselves in front of a massive cathedral, complete with baby heads and grapes made out of stone. Snap, snap, snap, I made sure to capture every interesting inch of the cathedral. Snap, snap, snap, "wow, that door is HUGE and look at the age of that wood!" Snap, snap, snap, "look, more baby heads!" Finally tired of snapping photos of the cathedral, I convinced Jonathan to stand in front of the cathedral (he hates looking like a tourist too) so I would have proof that we actually flew to Germany instead of taking a week off work to watch the Jerry Springer marathon. Then *he* happened...our true German welcome wagon. Let's call him Hans for the fun of it. Our tourist ways quickly tipped Hans off immediately. He saw through our black clothing and quickly offered us every tourist's wet dream, "Picture? Together? I take!"

Hans overly broad smile revealed several missing teeth, reminiscient of a Waffle House waitress. His attire of flannel and ripped blue jeans added to his style of "hi, I'm your first German vagrant!"

"No thank you, we're fine."

"Yeah, picture!" He moved in closer.

I silently thought, "Is this guy about to steal my camera? Crap, it's really work's camera. I'm sure the state of Georgia will understand how I willingly handed over my camera to a homeless German man."

"No really, thank you but no thanks." I answered.

Jonathan had gone into Wing Chun mode and had verbally retreated, gathering his kung fu forces in case Hans attacked.

This verbal banter continued for several more minutes, until finally my fear dissipated, with slight irritation replacing it.

I had more really old stuff to see and this man was in my way.

"Yeah, fine, ok, here." Jonathan and I stood just out of reach of the camera in case he ran.

Snap.

With a big non-tooth grin, Hans proudly handed our camera back to us, nodding with glee.

"Thank you," Jonathan and I said, relieved our encounter was almost over.

Hans nodded again, and then proceeded to walk past us towards the corner of the cathedral we were a few yards from. Without warning, Hans unzipped his pants and revealed little Hans to the elements.

"Whoa!" Jonathan and I quickly rounded the corner, a little shocked that Hans was peeing on the cathedral that was the center of my photo essay. Unwillingly to let Hans dissuade me, I slowly began to continue snapping more photos of the other side of the cathedral. Then I heard it...

"Picture? Together? I take!"

*groan*

"No, really, we're fine. No picture!" I quickly said, shaking my head hoping that it was somehow a universal sign for "hell no."

Hans quickly removed the camera from my hands, and motioned for us to once again stand in front of the cathedral. My germ phobia flared, as my stomach realized that the other side of the cathedral didn't have a sink and antibacterial soap facilities and the man who just seconds ago touched his...you know what I mean.

Snap.

Hans handed me back my camera, beaming with pride.

"Thanks," I said, trying hard not to obsess over the Hans germs I knew were rapidly reproducing on my camera.

Jonathan laughed. There would be no more pictures until I found disinfectant.

It's a boy!

Everyone, meet Bruce Lee Potter.

Yes, Jonathan and I finally took the plunge and we're now proud parents of a pouncing baby boy of 8 months. I can't help but gush about how he's all love and without an ounce of haughty hissy cat attitude. Plus, isn't he a beauty?

Jonathan had blonde hair too when he was a baby.

The Germany Chronicles, Chapter 1: The Welcome Wagon, Part 1

After a pleasant 8 hour flight filled with free wine, free movies, and free food, Jonathan and I found our sleep-deprived shells in the spacious Frankfurt airport. We somehow found our way onto a bus, that led us to our luggage, and then finally to the train station where we desperately searched for the extra large lockers Sherry promised we'd find. We found them...all very much in use by someone other than us, and after shlepping around way too much luggage, we made a solemn vow to never again bring more than two bags with us to a foreign country. We eventually found a locker and managed to stuff our luggage in, and then it was onto our next mission -- call Sherry. We assumed using the pay phone would be easy enough, but after inserting a few Euros into the slot, I found myself in the most stressful phone call I've ever made. Literally, for each 10 seconds that passed by, the pay phone indicator kept ticking away my money in increments of 10 cents. It was akin to seeing a large glass of water tipping over and that urge you feel to grab a paper towel and wipe it up. I managed to get the pertinent information I needed from Sherry just before my time ran out and the pay phone cut me off without an audio warning.

My irritation continued as we found ourselves in the Frankfurt Haupthbahnhof. The token machines were somewhat in English, but not really, which was more irritating if they were entirely in German. The lack of sleep exacerbated the situation, and had me feeling like an extra fiery Kung Pao Asian. After finally finding a human employed by the train station, we managed to buy tickets and board the train that would carry us to Frankfurt Au Main. My alienation soon began to dissipate once we were on the train, but I still felt like an interloper ready to be kindly asked to leave.