Date: 7/14/98

This is gonna be a fun one, folks. Long but exciting.

Like most stories, there is some bad mixed in with the good. I like happy endings, and the bad happens last chronologically, so I am going to start by talking about the Morning After, then tell about the days leading up to the Night Before. That should keep things more positive, although naturally when you get to the end your mind will remember what happens next.

Its 5PM, and the last time I tried, I still couldn't keep down water. I have one of the worst hangovers of my long and dissolute life. The headache and trembling aren't too bad, but the nausea is terrible. I tried to have a glass of orange juice when i got up at 1PM, but it raised a ruckus in my stomach and then exited, stage...uh...esophagus. A few hours later, i tried drinking water, and it seemed to be ok, but then i took 2 advil, and my empty stomach, furious with me for trying to alleviate some of my discomfort by using it to vector drugs, kicked out everything involved. So I am starving and thirsty, but I think there is some gradual improvement. I look forward with eagerness to the time when i can eat again. I didn't even get that drunk, i think it was the hand-rolled cigarettes that did it (europeans, because it is cheaper, often roll their own cigs, which can be rather strong). But I should not yet speak of the Night Before The Morning After, for you haven't heard about the previous days.

Recall that on saturday, i had arrived in berlin and checked out The Love Parade. After returning to the hostel in the afternoon, we (me, Mats, and his 2 canadian friends) decided we would go to a party in the evening. Several other people from the hostel decided to go with us, including Phyllis, a wild australian woman, and D___, an american. D___ and I hit it off right away, and as we were waiting for everyone to get ready, i mentioned my inadequate supply of wild dancing clothing, and she lent me a tight tie-dyed shirt that showed off my stomach and looked damn good on me, if i may say so myself. We chatted as we walked towards the rave we had chosen, where the famous DJ "Fat Boy Slim" was to play. She just graduated from college, where she majored in dance, so we talked about dance for a while. She wants to get a job out here, she doesn't have any commitments so she is just travelling until she finds someplace she wants to stay for a while. We got to the party, and it was a bit small because it was so early, but looked ok. Two indoor dance floors and a big outdoor area where they served many kinds of beer, including Hemp Beer, reportedly made from cannibas. Somehow, tho I suspect it has no extra effects. Oh, in case I didn't mention it, Berlin has decriminalized possession (tho not sale) of small quantities of marijuana, and it also has the same degree of legality in Prague. Wow, the times sure are a-changing.

Our gang split up and people went to drink or dance or whatever. I danced for a while on the smaller dance floor, showing off and having fun. Most of these ravers aren't very good at flashy dance stuff, not because of lack of ability, i think, but because they dance for themselves and not for others. Who needs to show off when your attention is focused at the game of lasertag inside your head? After a while i headed outside, and D___ and I went to the bigger dance area, which had a huge hanging thing that i think was supposed to look kinda like a beating heart. On the way in, some marlboro representatives asked if we wanted to fill out a form to possibly win a prize. So they gave us two forms, and we filled out name, address, phone number, and email. Trying to make small take, I made a joke about this being not for prizes, but so they can sell this information to people at the rave, if they think someone is cute and want their contact info. This turned out to be ironically prescient, as after we filled out the forms, D___ gave me hers, took mine, folded it in half, put it in her pocket, smiled enigmatically at me, and walked into the dance area.

I think I like this girl.

We danced the night away, moving outside occasionally to cool off, chatting with our friends, switching dancefloors, and so forth. We finally left at 3 or 4 AM. One of our party was a swedish guy named (I am serious) Jimmy Hendriksen. I'm bad with names, but Jimi Hendrix is easy to remember :). He and Phyllis had gotten stoned, and the other swede, Matt, had found some acid and spent two hours wandering home, then puked for an hour. Poor guy.

D___ and I went towards the hostel, and stopped to check out the park across the street. We spotted a wierd surreal wooden structure that looked like a deformed version of the standard childrens play house on a playground. The kind with a little bridge, and a few rooms, and monkey bars, and little bases and hidey areas and such. At first I thought it might be falling apart, because it was tilted in strange ways, but upon closer inspection it turned out to have been built that way. cool. So we sat in a little room, surrounded by graffiti, talking the sky towards blue.

At about 6AM, we finally went into the hostel and crashed.

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