Party at the JunkYard

I haven't partied with 18-21 year-olds that hard since I was about 18 myself. While in Cologne, Nasim had made a few friends. Most of them international, but a few Germans as well. One friend called up on a Wednesday and said there is a party tonight. I said "great, let's go." As the hour came closer and closer, things got murkier and murkier. I didn't know where the party was. The guy who'd invited us, didn't exactly know where it was, who hosted it, the time, or anything that you might expect from someone who'd invited you to a party. This had trouble written all over it.

Our initial plan was to meet at 8. We ended up meeting up around 9 and I still wasn't told where we were going. Unlike India, Germany is not exactly a place where you simply go when someone says, let's go. Germans are far too organized for that. I was eventually told that we needed to take a train from the main train station. What the hell was the point of meeting at the main train station at 8 then? Argh! I was getting irritated. After we took the train, I heard we were going to Pascha. In case this word is unfamiliar to you, Pascha is the name of the big disco in Ibiza. The european party capital. It appears that many European cities in fact have a place called Pascha. Even in Chennai, there is an embarrassing attempt to replicate a Pascha. In Germany, of course it's a three-story strip club and disco and restaurant. Whatever...

So the party wasn't at Pascha. Although, I guess it was nice to walk by and see pictures of topless women on the way. The party, it turns out, was a "public" party. I have no idea what that means still, but that night it meant paying an entrance fee. I'm generally opposed to going places that charge covers, but this seemed a bit different. If nothing else it would be a good story!

The "party" was completely bizarre. I'm not certain, but my guess is that I was the oldest person in attendance, including security, DJs, bartenders, and attendees. We ended up in an enormous junkyard across the road from Pascha with about 1200 teenagers and early 20 somethings. Everywhere we turned was some "trash-sculpture." I don't mean that the art itself was bad, but rather made from trash. The toilets were an interesting situation. They were up on a platform and paid entrance. Additionally, we had to buy tickets to buy beer or shots of the ubiquitous and ever-popular jagermeister... Teenagers and early twenty somethings are a bunch of lightweights. Rather, they know NOTHING about pacing or hydrating. I also think early twenty-somethings expect to act drunk if in fact they are drunk. Whereas, I know that if you really want to get drunk, make sure nobody thinks it's time to cut you off!

In any case, we did some dancing, and heard some euro-techno and some bad hip-hop and some goth-rock. It was unusual to say the least. Come to find out this place is a gallery or something for a sculptor named Odo Rumpf.