Silvesternacht insanity

There are many times in my life, where words have failed me. It’s not as if there isn’t ample opportunity to pontificate freely on whatever freely floats into my ill-considered little mind. The problem is one of semantics – language disconnects experience from sematics, there are sometimes no adequate words to convey the strength of the feeling.

So, if you will indulge me, I would like us to, temporarily, with do away with words and punctuation, and ask you to imagine, if you can, fear. True gripping, overwhelming fear.

Hold that emotion in your mind for a moment. Swirl it around your mind, and allow the tremerous evocations to lap over your reasoned and sane mind, and let deranged, babbling terror take over.

Well then. You are now in the correct mindset to appreciate an Auslander’s impression of the German New Year celebrations.

Weirdly, 2009 started off with a Spanish tradition. Being in the company of Madridans, I was required to stuff an unlikely amount of grapes into my mouth within an unlikely timeframe. After the whole business of the pips, the timing and the appalling state of the champagne situation, if was time to head out and face the world. Feeling sufficiently queasy after my Spanish indulgences, I decided to lead the way onto the street below.

Now, this is where the above fear training has come in handy.

Upon opening the door from my apartment to the street, I bumped into a man. A man holding a firework in his hand. A lit, primed and ready firework. He was holding enough explosives to blow his arm off, and he was standing three feet away from me. He considered me gormlessly as I tried not evacuate.

The madness that followed will be a unique experience in my life. I sincerely hope.

Every family, from every house was on the street. And they were armed. Fathers let off fireworks, with pleasing horizontal trajectories reminded me rather of Exocet missiles, at least they did after I picked myself up from cowering on the floor. Small children chucked out fizzing grenades. And mothers considerately met you in the eye before they threw deafening, terrifying death-crackers at your feet.

The run, from my house to the underground train station was an adrenaline fuelled gauntlet through roaring explosions, a fog of blinding gunsmoke and crowds of weirdly calm people.

The sure power of the experience was overwhelming. The noise, The smell, the dizzying quantity of explosions about me was simply too much to take in. It was as if every last Berliner, coolly and meditatively filled their houses with gas; set their hair on fire and jumped in.

Anyway, I survived. The fireworks continued at the same Somme-like intensity until three in the morning. Germans: utterly, utterly crazy.