Part I - Brunch Ruiner
Wake up with my face adhered by drool to leather couch arm at venue. Outside an arrogant sun reveals country side and a few small rural houses. I find the face value accepting Christian girl who convinced me to stay and who 6am out drank me to reluctantly drive me to the hostel where everyone else is staying. Rolling yellow canola countryside in middle of nowhere. Pull up to picturesk cottage hostel. Outside everyone stands smoking, haggard, and dressed in black. We take a waxy bag of apples and feed them to pigs and miniature horses. Head to brunch downtown. Get pulled over. Cops try to intimidate us and get us to say we have drugs but they don't speak English well so it's just sort of funny. "Brunch Ruiner" is a good band name and stems from when you're hung over with your friends on some Sunday after church (in this case - Easter Sunday) and your loud crude offensive dialogue ruins all of the families brunch around you. We get word that The Scandles, of who we played with the night before, are having an Easter egg eating competition and we are invited.
Part II - An Easter Celebration
We pull up to a darling house with a well manacured backyard that's home to a 130 year old turtle. A picnic table is lined with several cases of dyed eggs and Becks beer. We unshell the eggs, place them in a bowl, and set the table for each contestant to have ten hardboiled eggs and two large beers. The basics of the rules are that whoever the first person is to consume their respective meal is the winner, but if you vomit before completion you are disqualified (for the complete contract written the night before including rules and objectives see the photo bellow.) The games are initiated with a stood reading of the rules by our most English of friends, James, to make it as legally binding as possible. The games begin, and in a half hour end with a small mountain of egg puke and one victor who managed to slam his last beer before he puked not 20 seconds after. We applaud the sportsmanship and carry on to Nuremberg.
Part III - Nuremburg, GER - Art's Bar
We have no show this night, but we do have a friend who works at a bar. He invites us to stay at his apartment and come out for drinks. The bar is about 70% of the room, with the other 30% being a narrow three foot wide horseshoe shaped isle. We take a handful of shots before getting completely claustrophobic and half of us take a beer-in-hand walk through town. Massive cathedrals with steeples peeking over painted brick and diagonal wood braced building assembling a sort of architecture that I can only describe as sooo German. We eventually get to a hole in the wall bar that has foozeball and plays your entire Napster collection including Evanessance and Papa Roach. We have a drink while Kerry and I devise a plan to steal a bottle from behind the bar. It was simple - i would head to the otherside of the room and ask the bartender for distracting english complicated tourist directions while Kerry pursed the bottle. However, upon finding that the bar owner was walking in and out and was a 300 pound skinhead we decided we needed something a bit more drastic. Unfortunatly, I couldn't smash the empty bottle I found because a new group of people entered the bar and sat infront of the target bottle. Fortunatly however, at this very moment we saw they had an official game of Stump in the bar! Never ever had i heard of this game anywhere else but in the States, never mind had I ever seen an official stump stump on a stand, never had I ever played it inside at a public establishment where it could surely debilitate somebody. Here's how it works - you have a stump, nails, and a hammer. Each player stands their nail up in front of them with a gentle tap. The rest of the game entails other players trying to hit your nail into the stump on one swing, but not before they have to throw the hammer in a complete drunken flip in the air. Genious.
Arriving back at the bar to spread the stump gospel, we had come to find everyone else had already done about a dozen shots each. I played catch up with Mexicanas (a delicious concentrate Bloody Marry shot with more alcohol and more hot sauce) followed by Slushy shots (like childhood but more compact and more sinful). I walked outside to see some German rapping and being an asshole. One of us pulled his hat off his head and dropkicked because "it was the only thing I could do to not punch him in the face." At this cue I met some Nicaraguan street stranger and went across the street to a tiny club with 6 people. She bought me 20 euros of drinks and was one of the most magicless and uninteresting people I have ever met. I then met a group of people who invited me back to their house 10km away for a 5am BBQ. Fully aware that this was a terrible idea I grabbed my belongings and stumbled into their taxi.
The apartment was large, clean, and garnished with glass cases full of expensive worldly artifacts. I sat on couch that resembled a leather spaceship and watched an already playing DVD of a huge rave on a massive TV. The BBQ had exactly the 4 people that came with me in the taxi and no one else but did have a small grill and a lot of nice gin. I sat and drank heavy gin and tonics while talking about something. I got the impression I was trying to be hooked up with one of the girls who was Polish and spoke little English, but was feeding me salad. Still put off but not opposed to the weirdness of the situation I take a piss to to come back to everyone putting on their bags saying "We must go. We have to go now." I say "uhhh?.." and we are out the door on a bus on a train with them explaining I only need to go a few more stops before my stop. Completely wasted at 8am now alone looking beside me at all the people dressed up and going to do Easter things distracted me enough to miss my stop. I get off at the next, stand on the plaform for a moment trying to piece together the night, wander across the street, and pass out in a park.
