A Storm, A Party, And a Taxi Driver

The afternoon started off with my referat, which went really well. Once I started talking the nervousness disappeared and I gave my speech in typical, casual American form. After I was finished, the professor looked at me and said, "Well, it seems you really gained a huge interest in your theme!" So it was a good way to end the school week.

After spending a couple hours hanging out reading on the Neckar wall, Almir and I headed back up to WHO and I tried to decide whether I would go to a friend's birthday party. I ended up deciding to go despite the powerful storm that was quickly rolling in. I showered, got dressed, and headed for the bus stop. The moment I stepped on the bus the prematurely blackened skies opened up and dumped their rain on the valley. The lightning was nonstop - no pause in between flashes of light and thunderclaps. It was right over our heads. One lightning bolt hit an antenna on the top of one of the dorms, sending sparks flying into the air.

I pulled out my iPod and turned on U2's Electrical Storm - the perfect soundtrack to a bus ride through a chaotic storm. By the time the bus reached my stop, the raindrops were the size of golfballs and coming down in bucketfulls. I was dripping wet, my shirt sticking to my chest, when I finally reached the party. Luckily half the people at the party had decided to go out and dance in the rain for fun, so I wasn't the odd one out.

About two hours, two beers, a cigarette, and some good conversation later, I decided to head out - who knows when the last bus would go, right? Upon arriving at the bus stop, I was dismayed to see that the last bus had already left. This left with me two options: 1) Walk home in the rain all the way to WHO, which would take over an hour, or 2) Call a taxi and spend 13 euros unnecssarily.

I chose option 1. I took off my sandals and started off barefoot down the street, deliberately walking through the large puddles of warm rainwater. A few blocks later I realized I had no idea where I was and that I should turn around, go back to the bus stop, and just call a taxi. Which is what I did.

The taxi arrived, I got in, and told him where I needed to go. The first few minutes of the drive were silent, mostly because they always are with a new taxi driver as you both size each other up, and partly because I was hanging on for dear life as the driver sped through residential streets at speeds that I'm sure bordered on 60 miles per hour. Finally the driver broke the silence.

Driver: Well, it had to rain sooner or later.
Me: Yup. At least this will cool things down a bit. It's been so freaking hot.
Driver: Yeah. You wouldn't believe it, in Arabia it's 100 degrees in the shade.
Me: Oh, I believe it. I'm an American, I go to Arizona State University. In Phoenix in the summer, we push 115 all the time.
Driver: You're an American?!?
Me: Yeah.
Driver: Where did you learn to speak German?
Me: In school. I've been doing it for 9 years.
Driver: 9 years?!? Where did you learn Swabian?
Me: I've been here since August...
Driver: Wow. So what grades did you get in German class?
Me: Ummmmmm.... 1's?
Driver: Awesome. So, in America, is it like on TV with all the beautiful women? All the cars, and the Baywatch girls?
Me: Umm...sure. Yeah, that's exactly what it's like.
Driver: THE GIRLS REALLY LOOK LIKE THAT?!
Me: Yeah, they look exactly like that.
Driver: So, are they "easier" than German girls?
(Awkward moment of silence wherein I consider my two options: 1) telling him the truth, 'I wouldn't know, I'm a virgin.' OR 2) following Guy Code and giving him the answer he wants to hear.)
Me: Ummmmmmmmmm........easier?
Driver: That's it. I'm going to America on vacation! Where should I go for the girls?
Me:.................California?
Driver: CALIFORNIA!
Me: Yeah....umm...turn in here, yeah, there's the street.
Driver: Cool. Okay, that makes 12,70 €.
Me: Here's 13. Keep the change.

And that's the story of the storm, the party, and the taxi driver.