Last night was dinner with the parents. I was invited into the home of my beloved Conny's parents for a meal prepared by their very hands. Serious stuff, I know. Believe me, I was nervous. It was made more challenging by her parents not really speaking English. Her Dad isn't bad with English (much better than my German) but her Mom doesn't speak or understand much. Hard to be charming when all they get is "Blah blah blah Conny blah blah blah."

Before the dinner, I thought I would cause trouble by demanding to see pictures of the baby Conny. Nothing makes your significant other squirm than the parents dragging out old pictures. The squirm factor was pretty low, since Conny was more than happy to pull them out. Conny herself guided me through various albums. I learned that I'm in big trouble, since she was spoiled from a very early age. Each Christmas picture of her is a tiny child surrounded by giant toys. She had better toys than I did when I was a kid! A cool train set, slot cars, a puppet theater, this girl got everything. No wonder she's always got a big ass grin on her face in all the shots. With that type of treatment, I would have been a happy kid too, instead of the whining, miserable brat I was.

Her parents apartment exudes Bavarian charm. The interior has been redone in all handcrafted wood, with built-in cabinets, shelves and even the ceiling is done beautifully. It has a cozy, homey feel. There is a long hallway that has one wall lined with clocks. Displayed are cuckcoo clocks, pendulum clocks and grandfather clocks. Conny's grandfather either builds them or restores them and her parents have a small assortment of his work. At the hour, most of them chime in a variety ways, much like "Time" from Dark Side of the Moon.

I was served a true Bavarian meal, consisting of Schweinebraten, Krautsalat and Knödel, and a German wine. Her father Peter drank "Bavarian wine" as he called it, which was of course, Bavarian beer. After finishing a second helping, and dessert, Peter brought out Williams Birne, a Bavarian after dinner drink. When I saw the tiny little glasses with metal covers, I assumed the contents were pretty flammable.

"Like grappa?" I asked.
"No. Better," Peter explained.

I noticed only he and I were going to drink. Uh oh.

"None for the ladies?" I asked.
"I have to drive," Conny was quick to volunteer. Now I know why she wanted to take the car in the first place, in spite of having to circle for 10 minutes looking for a spot.
Her Mom shook her head.
"If she drinks half a glass, she will sing all night." says Peter.

At this, I slid the glasses away from her myself. After all, I've heard Conny sing, and I figure she has to get that singing voice from some place. Oh well. Bottoms up. I drank the stuff in the glass in a quick swig. It was like smooth fire. Wasn't as bad as I thought it might be, I wasn't struck blind or anything.

As we were leaving, her Dad said he said something for me to take with me, as a present. He gave me a small, handmade mechanical clock, like the ones in the hallway.

"Take this so you can remember Bavaria." he told me.

Crap. And I didn't bring anything. Talk about overwhelming. The hospitality, the meal, and now this. I thanked them both profusely, and decided I probably should sneak back into the bathroom and return the figurine I was going to steal.

All things considered, it went really well. They made a great meal, and they are both really sweet. It's amazing what happens when you don't have language to fall back on. I watched Conny with her folks, understanding only 1% of the words, but being able to watch the eyes and body language. Like a blind person, your other senses get a bit more alert. I'd like to think I could tell a lot about the family, even without the benefit of understanding the words. There was a lot of laughter, and a lot of smiles. Conny was pretty happy with the way the dinner went, with the exception of me dropping the figurine on the floor as we were leaving.

After dinner at her parents, we went back to the apartment for a bit to get ready for a night out at a club with Peter and Elizabeth. This club was going to be more "traditional," than Alabama, i.e. you pay for your drinks. Apparently, the club was also going to be a bit more edgy as well. Not the usual house music fare type of place. Conny and I both dressed to the nines and headed out to Kunstpark, the nightlife/club district of Munich, the biggest in Europe, or so they claim. It was pretty big, actually. Kind of like a carnival, or amusement park for grown ups, but instead of rides, there are clubs.

We met up with Peter and Elizabeth at the Club Doom, no relation to the video game of the same name, though the decor did seem to invoke a bit of that id atomsphere. The two of them offered me a gift, and Peter explained they wanted to give me something that I couldn't get in New York, something to remind me of Bavaria. He handed me a heavy bag that felt like it had a pot in it. My first thought was "noodle salad." I opened the bag up, and sure enough it was a pot. Just a nice, stainless steel pot, blessfully devoid of any noodle salad. Then I realized these two wise-asses had read Conny's journal about me only owning one pot, which isn't true, because I have a pot and a pan. Still, two pots and a pan is better than one pot and a pan. Now when my friend Michael comes to visit and cooks for me, I won't have to endure his withering stares when he reaches into my cupboard.

It was the night of gifts, apparently. After the clock, and the pot, the bartender started giving me things. I started getting toys with my rum and cokes. We started with a plastic spider, then I got a skeleton key chain, followed by a skull key chain, and lastly a huge rubber cockroach (for those counting, yes, that's four drinks.) At first, I thought the guy behind the bar was flirting with me, but turns out that indiscriminate bastard was giving 'em out to anybody who got a cocktail. I feel like such an ass for giving him my phone number now.

We got home around 4AM after having a great time at Doom. We went right to bed because we had to get up early to drive to the mountains the morning. 9AM came way too quickly. Followed shortly by 10AM. Then, somehow we skipped 11AM and went right to noon. So much for going to the mountains. We mutually decided to spend our last full day together without rushing around or being trapped in a car. So that's what we did. I'm pretty certain I could be trapped in an elevator with Conny, and I would still have a great time. Not that I'm in a rush to try this, mind you.
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