Day 87 (again): Goddamn I Love Berlin

I know, pretty creative title compared to that last post, huh? Well fuck you, you try being creative hungover as all hell. Anyways, Last weekend I spent in Berlin with some friends I have met here in Sweden and let me tell you what, it was quite the ride.

The trip could not have started better. We ordered our transportation tickets off of some german site that we couldn’t understand half of. We thought we were catching a train to Berlin from Copenhagen, so we arrived in Copenhagen with plenty of time. After getting a delicious and nutritious breakfast at McDanks, we set off to find our train. After looking at a few departure boards and seeing nothing that said Berlin, we asked a local. We were told that our train was at a different station, so we took a taxi to the supposed station. After 10–15 minutes of walking around, we didn’t see anything that said Berlin on it. With 15 minutes until our train was supposed to leave, we started to panic. We started sprinting block after block in downtown Copenhagen looking for anything that said Berlin. With 7 minutes to spare and pitting like a motherfucker, we finally found it. The kicker? It wasn’t a train, it was a fucking bus. A big ass double decker bus. We were about to embark on a 7.5 hour BUS RIDE to Berlin. The bigger kicker? Since there were five of us, we had to take two taxis and the kids that were in the other taxi were nowhere to be found because they too were looking for a train. With exactly four minutes to spare, we gave up hope of our friends showing up. Mildly defeated and stepping onto the bus, we caught sight of some maniacs sprinting towards the bus and lost our shit when we realized it was our friends. In celebration, we started boozing immediately on the bus. Need proof? Check the time stamp y’all:

Yeah, that’s ya boi crackin a luke warm Carlsberg

A few hours into the ride, our bus had to get on a ferry. However, this was no ordinary ferry. This ferry had an all you can eat (AND DRINK) buffet. That buffet was everything. I still have wet dreams about it. After boatracing a few or several (in the teens, really) Carlsbergs, we hopped back on the bus for a squad power nap and thus began our Berlin trip.

You know you’re going to have a good time when you can get a liter of beer and two shots for 5 euros. The first night led us somewhere I will NEVER forget for as long as I live. To quote my friend Sean, “that place was K-hole incarnate”. This club was called Wilde Renate. Now, I’m not sure if you have seen or heard of the famous Saturday Night Live character Stefan, but if you haven’t Stefan is a correspondent that gives tips on the newest and hottest clubs in the New York area. More often than not, these descriptions of clubs are so ridiculous, he often breaks character to laugh. Anyways, this club felt like a description Stefan would give on the show. It was based in an old, abandoned apartment building. When you first enter, a small hallway opens into a courtyard with an old gazebo, strange lights, and broken boats strewn across the grass to sit in. Inside, there was a dance floor that can only be described as fucking grimy. It was dimly lit, monotonous german techno was blaring, and the fog was so thick you couldn’t see the DJ stand in the front. Only a handful of people were “dancing” (I say dancing because that’s the best word I can think of to describe it, I actually don’t know what the FUCK that was). Then, only the bravest of souls ventured upstairs. There were two more dance floors up there along with weird side rooms. These rooms had old couches, lofts, old antique lighting and decor, and one even had a rickety bed that drugged out Germans were absolutely losing their domes on. I wish I could have taken pictures of the venue, but when you first enter they make you put little stickers over both of your phone cameras so no pictures could be taken. What a fucking trip that was.

The next night, squad decided to hit a more mainstream club called Matrix. After nothing too notable consuming copious amounts of the poison we all know and love we hit the streets and wound up in the White Rabbit. We should have taken the hint that this place was whack when the bouncers threw A LIT FUCKING FIRECRACKER AT US. Not some asshole in line or walking by, not some punk kid who’s parents didn’t pay enough attention to him, the actual BOUNCERS at the club. Inside was the manifestation of what I believed to be every drug in existence. This club was truly grimy in every sense of the word. Strange lights, shirtless dudes smaller than coke addicts, and only a handful of people on each dance floor. Naturally, we left. By this time, it is 7:30 am, so we try to get into yet another club called Berghain. This club is very famous and very hard to get into. The bouncers turn away anyone, it doesn’t matter who you or your daddy are. Everyone in the line was dead silent. When we made it to the front of the line and the time of judgement, we caught sight of Sven, the extremely intimidating and famous bouncer. Seriously, google him. Its nuts. The bouncers didn’t even try to speak German to us when they denied us. I guess we reeked of American. By this time, we headed back to the hotel and got there just in time for the complimentary breakfast buffet. We chowed and hit the hay.

The last night wasn’t too notable except for one thing. We found it. This wondrous, glorious concoction of lord knows what. The holy grail. It was called a Red Skull and was served in an opaque glass with an ominous star stamped onto it. We each ordered one and watched in awe as the bartender whipped up some drank and plopped some red liquid into the glass that floated in the booze and looked vaguely like a legitimate red skull. We sipped on about half, then said fuck it and went for bottoms up. My oh my was that the best decision of the night. One of us started talking at a billion miles an hour about stocks or something and I’m pretty sure one kid couldn’t speak. We finally achieved Berlin turnt.

The end of this trip could not have been more perfect. After partying until some ungodly hour in the morning, I woke up at 8:50 am. Our bus leaves at 9:30. Fuck. FUCK. We allocated most of our belongings and tried to call an uber. No ubers. We got the receptionist to call a cab. No cabs. The station is two miles away. We ran two miles to the station and our beaten, broken bodies could barely handle it. We got to the bus with 8 minutes to spare. Needless to say, the buffet on the ferry on the way back was the highlight of the trip. Berlin, you fucked me up. I respect that.

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.