People very rarely say that friends are like buses. It seems, however, that mine may in fact be similar to the large road-bound public transport vehicles. After Warrick’s visit last weekend I had only 3 days to prepare before the Mountain Dew, Simon arrived late on a Friday night.
Before all that there was the small matter of my Abschiedsparty (leaving party) at Westwing. Despite a lot of last minute drop outs there was a decent turn out as we headed to where it all began back in August, Beach 38. It made a pleasant change that there were a lot of people in the establishment giving it a decent atmosphere but this did come at a cost as we had to wait a full hour for a simple burger and chips.
As Friday finally rolled around I was beginning to feel the strains of working 4 consecutive days in a week – something I’ve not done since the last weekend in April. A fter a relaxed training session and couple of beers with the lads I went to pick young Si up after his later night Mitfahrgelegenheit.
The following morning we rose early to head to Augustinerkeller for 11am as Marcus was celebrating his Birthday and we were desperate to secure a seat in the beer garden for the Champions League Final, the reason why EVERYBODY in Munich was wearing red. The weather was miserable and after 3 hours sat in the rain we decided to up sticks and moved to the site of the Starkbierfest, Paulaner am Nockherberg where the weather was at very least dry. Marcus’s friends began to flow in, a variety of nationalities all with one common feature – they worked at BMW. It was great to finally put faces to the variety of nicknamed friends who I’d heard so many stories about. As the countdown to the match reached the final few hours those less prepared for the cold, headed home while we began to join in the chants of “BVB hurensöhne!” (translated as “Dortmund are sons of whores”, huge fun)
My concentration throughout the match was mainly focused on the atmosphere in the viewing area and also on protecting Marcus, who’d already started trying to pick fights with everyone. Thankfully, Bayern won meaning that the city was rocking. Immediately after the trophy ceremony we headed to the U-Bahn with the aim of getting to Leopoldstrasse, the site of all Bayern München afterparties. How we got there in one piece I don’t know, as the fans on the train seemed set on derailing it with their incessant jumping. Despite the huge crowds there was no real focal point of the celebrations and a lot of people seemed to be standing around waiting for something to happen. Other than the occasional chant or firework it wasn’t quite as glorious as I was expecting and we eventually decided to call time on a very long day – although it seems we may have left too early, as a friend of mine told me that around half an hour later there were two girls stood on an Ambulance with their boobs out. Nightmare.
Whoever thought it would be a good idea to have a football match at 10:30am the day after the Champions League Final is an absolute moron. Regardless, this would be my last chance to play for the mighty Munich Irish Rovers before I leave the country and I was fully intent on making the most of it. Unfortunately we were playing against Centro Espanol, the Sunday League equivalent of Barcelona so we spent the majority of the match chasing shadows. A fully fit Nath might’ve been able to bag a couple but having tore my hamstring 7 weeks ago I wasn’t quite up to scratch.
After bidding Simon a fond farewell there was only one way to truly finish off the weekend, and that was of course a Bond-athon. Both Jon and Bernie seemed very disappointed in me when I told them I hadn’twatched the early Bonds before and they were more than happy to show me the ropes. With red wine in our hands and potato wedges in our bellies we worked our way through Dr No and From Russia With Love without even breaking a sweat. By the time we got to Goldfinger and Thunderball, however our glasses were empty and we headed to the kitchen to see if Jon had anything appropriate for a Sunday evening. He did not. Jägerbombs and our newly named Pussy Galore (whiskey & red bull) were the order of the day and before we knew it, it was 2:30am. Obviously by this point the trams had stop running so Jon kindly put us up at his.
And this led me into my last week at Westwing. As I sit now, I only have 1 day left of work at my beloved furniture company and it will truly be the first sign that this Year Abroad is coming to an end. It’s amazing to think how much I’ve grown and changed in the past 9 months and despite its ups and downs (looking at you Marek) I have thoroughly enjoyed my time and work has been a large part of that. Let’s just hope there aren’t any tears.