We were coming back from Pep today by car, and all kinds of honking and hooting was going on. The Turks apparently won in their World Cup Match. We probably passed about ten cars with red Turkish flags waving out the windows, which just made the Germans shake their heads. When the Germans won in a nailbiter against the Americans 1-0 on Friday, only twice did they show any signs of elation: once after the goal, and once after the game. As the crowd streamed out the doors they were already in the process of becoming their usual, reserved selves once again.
Today I went to practice frisbee in the little park with the giant hill in the center. Behind the hill there was a small gang of German high schoolers all squeezed onto the same bench, enjoying a stealthy smoke and riding around their motorcycles (motorpeds? they were small, not Harley's, ok) occasionally. I just set up on the longest open stretch of grass and started getting into the routine of throw, walk, throw, walk. At one point my throw landed close enough to their bench for a blonde German girl, dressed in pink and very pretty, to use this as an opportunity to find out why I was playing alone. I gave her the standard "I'm from America, my German is bad" thing. She made a pathetic little girl throw in my direction, to which I managed "And you throw a little badly too" in German. Their was laughter.
I went back to playing. Another guy showed up in his Frosted Mini-Wheat motorcycle. Perhaps because I was perceived as a bit of a threat after the friendly attention I got from pink girl, someone made a noise as I was about to throw the next one. I kind of shook my head and smiled at this--it hadn't affected the throw at all, in fact it was one of my best of the evening--but the seed had been planted in my mind. From the moment of my arrival I had been a little at unease around this gang of kids; it brought back memories from those terrible Junior High days. I went through all the stages of paranioa, began to play out scenes in which I kicked the sh*t out of these cocky German warm-shower-takers in my mind. The adrenaline was running pretty high, and I was prepared to take action at any moment. Most guys my age would have been past that stage, mature, beyond throwing punches I suppose, but there were so many fights that I didn't get into but should have, so many omitted punches, so many stand-up-for-yourself situations that I just backed down from diplomatically, that I have residual things to prove I guess. Too little testosterone too late is the way the story went.
Posted by Alan at June 22, 2002 09:53 PM