On New Years

New Year’s Eve in Berlin is like a war zone in a poorly-conceived, low-budget indie film about the apocalypse, for which the only effects they can afford are bottle rockets, loud (royalty-free) explosion sounds, small fires, and trash.

The tram I wanted to take wasn’t running, so I walked home from my cousin’s party (which wasn’t all bad because I made friends with a tiny baby who actually fell asleep on me) and on the way I got debris from a bottle rocket in my hair (nothing burned, thankfully), encountered countless explosion sounds, passed an actual fire truck putting out a house fire, and in various places there were smaller fires just burning in the middle of the street that no one seemed to give a crap about.

Rocket’s Green Glare

Then, this morning, everything was closed. I had to go to a train station to get some groceries, and on the way there I trampled through the effects of vandalism, confetti, and piles and smatterings of trash everywhere. It feels as though the city is so busy being hung over this morning that the new year doesn’t actually start until tomorrow, maybe Wednesday. I guess we’ll see.

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