Seventeen years old and one month out of high school, I was preparing for the most daring expedition I had, as yet, set out on. I had spent the school year diving into German 1, and working 40 to 50 hours a week telemarketing. My German teacher had mentioned taking a few students over with him during the summer, and I had become determined to be one of those students. I poured myself into it, between trips to the punk house and random road trips, I could still always be found with a German textbook of some sort under my nose. Now, fresh from graduation, I had accomplished a 3rd year comprehension in only 6 months. My family was proud of me for setting a goal and sticking to it, I was proud of myself for the useful applications of the language. Now, with three days left before my first plane flight, I found myself completely insomniac. I did what any seventeen year old who couldn't sleep and had only 72 hours left on his native soil would do. I drank. Heavily.

So it came to the day of my flight, I had yet to sleep, figuring a 9 hour plane flight would surely afford me some chance for nocturnal habits. Hungover but lighthearted, I made the trip to the airport with my family in tow. At the airport my grandparents congradulated, my brothers envied and my mother cried...liberally...She has a hard time seeing me go, to this day. The plane flight was wonderous. I had been a rather anxious child, so I had surmised that I might be afraid of the flight, instead, I spent the entirety of it staring out the window, learning about the workings of the 737 and wishing I had a very stiff drink.

At 1300 hours I departed seat 13 in row M (The 13th Row), and my size 13 Chuck Taylor's hit German soil for the first time, on the 13th of June. I had just taken my first plane ride with the most unlucky numbers possible and come out unscathed, luckily, superstition has never played more than a jestful role in my life.

Our busride was rather uneventful, save for seeing a massive, firey pileup on the Autobahn and arriving at all of our tourist stops at least 4 hours late. Barely making dinner at our hotel, we had to call it a night before we ever saw a day.

Having no more plans for the day, I introduced myself to a few of the others on the tour and asked if they'd like to join me for a beer to enjoy the town outside. The city was gorgeous, a few kilometers outside of Frankfurt, there was no noise. The streets were quiet save for a few notes coming out of a small coffee shop a block down. I had never believed that Europe could look so much different than Amerika, now I was proven incredibly wrong. As the others went to bed, I made a promise to myself, not to waste any of the time I had here, and began to walk the streets alone. I know that tourists, especially Amerikan tourists, shouldn't walk European cities they've never seen before, alone at night, but at Seventeen I was intoxicated by my surroundings, and that intoxication had given me a sense of invunerability. I returned to my hotel around 5 AM, just in time to shower before breakfast. The anticipation of the first 3 days had not measured up to the reality of Germany.