The Commute

I have an idea for a spin off movie from The Hangover. Actually, it’s based on my experience this past Monday. It would be appropriately called, The Commute.

Zach Galifianakis plays the man who gave me a push and later randomly meets me at a night club in the new movie, The Commute, based on a true story.  I would imagine (at least in my mind) Tom Cruise or James Franco playing the role of myself.

I left a snowy and icy Munster at 4:30 pm on Monday afternoon; giving me plenty of time to get back to Borken in time for basketball practice at 8 pm. As I got into my car, I could see traffic gridlocked as far as I could see. However, waiting until later would only mean more rush hour traffic, so I got into the car and jumped into the gridlocked traffic.

Once stuck in traffic, the ice on the road was so bad that it took a few seconds to get going in the “stop and go” traffic. At one point, I couldn’t gain any traction for a full minute and the guy who was driving behind me had to get out and give me a push. I wanted to pull over right then and there, but had no option to do that at the moment. I pressed on through the city center, skating from one street light to the next. In addition to the accidents on the road, only a handful of cars could get their cars going fast enough to make it through the intersection each light. It was a disaster.

Finally, the roads cleared a little bit by the time I made it to the Autobahn. I made it at a break neck pace of 60 km/hour (36 miles per hour) for a while down the Autobahn (so much for no speed limit) until the fog rolled in. And it rolled in quickly and was really thick. A couple miles later, and I can’t see a thing. Not only was I dealing with snow and ice on the roads, I was now contending with dense fog. I wondered if God was going to bring locusts next. The fog brought me out of the “Just really concentrate, go very slow and you’ll be ok” mode into the “Am I going to die?” mode. I reviewed our family’s life insurance policy in my head. That was my queue to get off of the Autobahn.

So, here is the new rule of life:

1. If you are doing something that makes you think about your life insurance policy, you should immediately stop!

I crawled off the Autobahn at the next possible exit. At the end of the exit, I could barely read the sign which was covered in snow telling me where the nearest towns were. I could see a couple of towns that were 8 & 10 km’s away to the right and there was a covered up name that was 1 km to the left. It was a no brainer: take a left to the no-named village 1 km away.

After driving 1 km that felt like 20 km’s I pulled into a parking lot of a small shopping center and stopped the car. I was safe, but now what? Where was I? What was I going to do?

I walked around the small city to figure out where I was. I saw that I was in a small town called Appel- something. There were a couple of restaurants, a brothel, a hotel, and a gas station from what I could see.

I found the town’s only pay phone near the center of town. I put in 50 cents and hoped for the best. I got a hold of Dana on the phone. I had 1 minute and 5 seconds to talk. Dana was met by a frantic voice saying, “It’s me. I am stuck somewhere near the Autobahn. I don’t know where I am, or what I am going to do tonight. All I know is that I am not driving any more. Please call Borgi” (my basketball coach.) She could tell I was really stressed, so she gave her best advice, “You will figure something out, I am sure. Good luck.” I was back on my own.

I went to Hotel Bonaparte to see what the room rates were, but nobody was there. The brothel’s neon signs clearly indicated it was open for business, and I contemplated for a moment if I could get a room for the night without committing to a ‘Thai massage.’ This was probably not a good idea. Now what?

It was only 6:30pm, so I had time to make it back to Munster, where at least there would be more options to stay. How would I get there? I asked a pedestrian if there was a train station in town and was told that there was one 15 minutes by foot down the road. I decided to make the long walk down the dark road to the train station.

This would be a good time to mention that it was 16 degrees (-8 degrees Celsius) and feeling in my legs were starting to go numb. I felt like Aubrey on Christmas Vacation when the family was out getting a Griswold Family Christmas tree.

15 minutes later, I found the train station. The only reason I found it was because I ran into the train tracks. The station was on the other side of the road, and because of the dense fog, I couldn’t see the train station.

Not surprisingly, the next train to Munster was delayed by 10 minutes when I arrived at the platform (Uncovered, by the way, from the cold weather). The delay grew to 20 minutes; then 30 minutes. As I waited on the platform, my legs started to lose even more feeling. I had to use the restroom, I think. How could I really know?

The train finally arrived before I involuntarily wet myself and it was a short ride back to Munster. Feeling came back to my feet and legs and I was on my way back to the office around 7:30pm. I called Dana from my office and explained, more calmly, the situation. I booked a cheap hotel in Munster to stay the night.

That’s pretty much where the story ends. The movie, called The Commute, could potentially add a crazier night in Munster to make it more interesting. I, on the other hand, ate a nice dinner and spent the night (18 month old child free) in Munster before working at the University the next day.  Nobody (at least they didn't tell me to my face) noticed that I was wearing the exact same outfit two days in a row. 


Later that day, I took the train back to Appelhulsen in the afternoon to retrieve the car (thank goodness it was still there and not towed away) and continued my journey back to Borken, 24 hours after leaving initially.

The Netto in Appelhulsen, where I left the van for the night.

Dizzy Dylan and Other Dylan Updates

Here's a little update about Dylan and what he's been up to lately. He hasn't had any tantrum episodes as bad as the night we went to see St. Nikolaus, but he's been on the verge a few times, usually when he's really tired or really cold from being outside. Mostly, though, he does a lot of fun and cute things.

First, Dylan really loves to spin around and around then see if he can walk while he is dizzy. It's pretty funny to watch him do this but we're always running after him try to protect him from table corners or walls. We call this "Dizzy Dylan" and usually when we say that to him, he starts to spin wherever he is. I tried to catch him on video and captured a pretty funny spill. To Dylan's defense, the lamp cord that he trips on isn't normally in that spot.

He talks a lot now and says many different words, especially words that begin with the letter "B" - like ball, book, baby, blanky, bird, banana, etc. He also says "Ocky" for Oscar, and "guck" for duck. When he wants to watch Sesame Street he says "Ernie! Ernie!" over and over again because Ernie is his favorite character. He's pretty good at trying to repeat what we ask him to, except for when we ask him to say "please" which, for whatever reason, incites him to scream and cry. He also does goofy baby talk that sounds like he's saying "Oye oye oye oye oye" and speaks this into his toy cell phone, which makes us wonder if that is what we sound like to him when we're on the phone. Not a lot of German words come from Dylan's mouth yet, but then again, not a lot of German words come from our mouths either, although we're making improvements.

He can be pretty sneaky, and this past weekend Dylan learned how to play "Trick the Babysitter" to get her to let him stay up past his bedtime while Bryan and I were at a Christmas party. We were only a few blocks away, so she called for help and I came home to get him in bed then left again to go back to the party. 

Dylan spends a lot of his time throwing a ball against the wall and trying to catch it.  He's getting pretty good and it and this activity gives us a nice break from chasing him around.  Bryan brought him to the gym a few days ago to play with the big basketballs and we're pretty sure Dylan was in heaven, so we plan to bring him back more often so he can get some energy out.  Here are a few pictures of him after one of Bryan's recent basketball games.

Dylan also has a sweet tooth and really loves the Christmas cookies that I made. Last year he was too little to have one, but this year "cookie" is quickly becoming one of his favorite words. I video taped him eating his very first Christmas cookie, which was so cute until the end when he realized I was only going to give him one cookie and not however many he wanted.

It's Just Not That Interesting

I figured when we moved over here that there would be so much to blog about and topics would be very easy to write and they would be really interesting.   What I found out in reality is that what I am doing each day is not that interesting.   Want some samples?  No?  Here are some anyway. 

1.   I spend a lot of time in my car.  While getting some good me time is nice, it doesn’t really deserve any blog posts.   I currently make 3-4 trips to Münster from Borken each week.  Each way takes about 60 minutes without traffic or snow/ice/rain.   

Though I have gotten good at understanding the traffic and weather on the radio spoken in German from these long trips, I am at the point where I will seriously consider driving into a ditch if I hear C-Lo’s ‘Forget You’ one more time. 

2.   I love school/research.   I still have trouble believing this.  After all, I was the basketball player that could barely stay academically eligible to play after my first semester of college.  The only reason I knew how to get to the library was because I once followed a hot girl there.  Me: “So this is the library.  Hmmm.  Where was I originally going?”  

My University of Muenster Web Profile

Unless, you want to hear an entire post on momentum strategy, asset allocation, or exponential growth bias projects, I will keep them off of this blog (but hopefully into the academic community). 

3.   The basketball club posts basketball news and information for those who are interested on their website.  Okay, for our American friends (both of you), these posts don’t really translate to English that well.  One of the headlines translated into "The Fruit Hangs High for Borken."  Is that a good thing or a bad thing? 

When all else fails, you can look at the bottom of the article and count how many total points each player scored and compare that number to the score in the article to see if we won.  That’s how I did it for a long time. 

Okay, maybe I could do better writing about basketball.  Maybe.  

Here's an example:

We won 84:66 for this game.  You can confirm by adding the points together. 

 RC bark Hoxfeld: Dunker (8), Dzaferagic (5), Demes (14), Foltice (30), Bosse (14), Holt

(5), Fechtner (2), Gruczyk (2) and Dohler (4)

The team is currently 5-5 heading into Christmas break.  We have a chance to make a run the second half of the season.  I am looking forward to seeing what happens in the New Year.  
 

Hopefully, some more interesting topics will come out over the Christmas season and into the New Year.  We will keep you posted. 

Sprechen Sie Dutch?

3 Months into our time here in Germany and I have been very busy with everything.  Sorry for the absence of postings.  Though I have noted that the majority of comments that we receive on our blog come from Dana’s posts, so maybe I should take the hint. 

Nevertheless, I recently have been feeling discouraged about the rate that I am learning German.  (Why can’t I just go to sleep and wake up speaking fluent German?)  Today, I read this blog post from another basketball player who is also playing basketball in Germany, Tony Skinn, (you might remember him as the point guard from George Mason’s Final Four run a few years ago) that has feeling better about where I am at.   Here is an excerpt from his blog: 

Guten Tag from Deutschland - Dec 10, 2010 (by Tony Skinn)

“Yes, Ive been able to pick up on a few Dutch words/phrases. Luckily the majority of the people I encounter on the day-to-day basis are able to communicate with me in English! While Id love to learn the language, it has been extremely difficult to pick up on.

Looking back, it was much easier for me to pick up on both French and Italian than it is Dutch, probably because I was forced to take Spanish in College. I used to surprise myself when communicating with the locals in Italy and France, but I dont even try here in Germany.

Try ordering a pepperoni pizza in Dutch? Almost impossible, if you ask me! Lets just say Ive gotten a lot better in using sign language to communicate.”

I would totally agree with him that Dutch and German are difficult languages, though he might be surprised at how well he can communicate if he ever plays for a team in the Netherlands. 

So, if you are keeping score at home, it’s currently:

Tony Skinn 1 (being a better basketball player)

Bryan Foltice 1 (knowing Germany's official language)

The Weirdest Christmas Tradition Ever

On Saturday a friend invited Dylan and I to go with her and her daughter to see Santa Claus in our neighboring village of Burlo. I was excited because it would be Dylan's first time seeing Santa (or, St. Nikolaus, as he is known here in Germany). I mentioned these plans to another friend and she replied:

"Oh yes, every year St. Nikolaus comes with Knecht Ruprecht, the dark-faced, scary Santa."

Huh? Why would anyone want to see a scary Santa? Doesn't Santa scare enough kids each year while trying to be friendly and jolly?

Here's what I learned: Santa comes each year not on Christmas Eve, as he does in America, but on St. Nikolaus Day (or around it), which is Dec. 6. St. Nikolaus looks a lot more like a Catholic Bishop wearing a Santa beard than "Santa Claus" and he is in charge of giving candy and small gifts to children who have been good. The naughty kids are dealt with by St. Nikolaus's travelling companion, the sinister Knecht Ruprecht, who looks a bit like the Grim Reaper and very out-of-place in the shot-gun seat on St. Nick's sleigh. A long time ago Ruprecht would whip naughty kids with switches, but now he just gives them a stick instead. I guess the German's take this "naughty or nice" thing pretty seriously.



Laugh all you want, this is totally for real.  This photo was taken from someone else's website because we couldn't get close enough to get our own (keep reading to find out why), but I can vouch that Burlo's St. Nikolaus and Ruprecht looked very similar to this.

My friend gave me the run-down on how this was going to play out.  Everyone (that is, kids from the local elementary schools and their parents) would meet at a spot in Burlo where a sleigh with Nikolaus and Ruprecht would come through and everyone would follow through the woods for a while until we got to a second meeting place.  There would be some music and songs, then St. Nikolaus would hand out candy and Ruprecht his sticks.  This all sounded well and good, but Dylan inserted his own idea's in to how the night would go - such as, throwing the biggest temper-tantrum in history and ruining everyone's evening.

He started out doing OK, but somewhere between the first meeting place and the second, he tripped and fell down and just couldn't recover.  Perhaps it was a combination of the cold weather (it was snowing), being bundled up and not wanting to walk (we were taking turns with the stroller since only one would fit in the car), but he quickly spiraled out of control.

Here is Dylan with his friend, Amy, shortly before the meltdown.  He is holding Amy's lamp, which all the children carried to light the way in the woods.  We need to replace the lamp because in Dylan's blind-rage it was destroyed.

As soon as the pageantry began at the second meeting place, Dylan fell apart.  I removed him away from the crowd of people as far as I could, but nothing would console him.  He didn't want to be held, he didn't want to stand/walk/run/play, he didn't want to be in the stroller, no food, water, or anything would help.  So I let him writhe around on the ground flipping and flopping all over the place, banging his hands on my legs, screaming and crying while I watched bewildered wondering "Whose devil-child is this, anyway?".  My friend came and found us and said "He sounds like a Gremlin.  Are you sure he isn't sick?"  Yes, I'm sure, although there were moments where I had to give him a really good hard look and make sure he wasn't actually having a seizure or something - it was that bad.  Here are some thoughts that ran through my head:

This is like a scene from The Exorcist. Is he possessed?
I hope Kristin calls me again.  Maybe next time I'll get a babysitter.
Is he seriously the only child out of 200 that is crying right now?  How is that possible?
We are never bringing him out in public, ever again.
If the guy dressed as Ruprecht had any sense of humor, he'd walk over here and give Dylan a stick for being naughty.

The program finally ended and it was time to go, although our car was parked about 1/2 mile away.  Dylan refused to go in the stroller (he slithered out of it) and wouldn't walk, so I had to carry him.  1/2 mile felt like 10 miles ... up hill ... in the snow (and the snow part was true!).  My arms were on fire by the time we got to the car.  Dylan, of course, was generally well-behaved in the car and went to bed immediately once we got home (all that freaking out really got him tired).

So the lesson learned from tonight is that Dylan is strong-willed enough to go to whatever means necessary to get what he wants, even if it is not in his best interest (he could have gotten candy, after all).  16.5 years until he moves out and goes to college ... and counting.

He was so happy while we were getting ready.  No visible signs of the future meltdown.

Here is Dylan in his long-underwear.  This photo will embarrass him when he is a teenager.

"Look Mom, it's snowing!  Can we go into a big crowd of people where I can throw the mother-of-all-temper-tantrums and leave you wondering if I am a Gremlin?  Can we?!  Can we?!!