Stories.

In the past 24 hours, two friends of mine here have shared particularly awesome stories with me. I am now shamelessly repurposing them for my own use here on this blog.

1. My one friend is from the Northwest - well, Colorado, but she went to college in Seattle. About four years ago, one of her teachers in the German department passed around a card, and said to sign it.

"What's it for?" my friend asked.

"Oh, a student from our college just went to prison." Her professor didn't mention for what, or where, or why, and so, confused, Danielle signed.

And that's how she wound up writing on the sympathy card sent to Amanda Knox, one of her professor's favorite students.

"What did you write?" I asked.

Danielle thought for a moment, and then said, "Um, hope you get out soon? :)"


2. My other friend is from Israel. He and his girlfriend are hoity-toity research scientists here in Munich, but there is nothing snooty about them; they're on Munich's first English-speaking improv troupe with me and five other people. Last night, 5/8 of the troupe somehow didn't make it to practice, so the three of us canceled and went to the restaurant on the corner instead.

There, he regaled us with the tale of how, on one trip to the United States, he found himself at the Burning Man Festival in the middle of the Nevada desert at dusk, trying to tell the state troopers who'd surrounded him and his friends with their jeeps that the thing in his hand wasn't a joint, but a simple tobacco cigarette.

He was successful, somehow, but what is really remarkable about this story is that, at the time he was talking his way out of deportation, he was nearly naked - wearing only a flame-colored thong - and painted blue, with a third eye on his forehead, the visual image of which - if you know him - makes his story pretty much impossible to top.

That's all.