Viva Mexico
Night trains from Denmark go to one of two places, Cologne or Stockholm. While both are lovely choices, it turned out that the Stockholm train was full. So, in the spirit of "always say yes," I found myself stuffed in a couchette compartment with three Mexicans, one Dane and one Norwegian (thankfully, we all spoke English). The Dane was headed to Cologne to drive a car back to Copenhagen. We had a lovely chat about politics. The Norwegian was headed to Amsterdam to visit some friends. We also talked about politics. The Mexicans, however, were headed to Cologne to watch Mexico take on Portugal in the World Cup. When they discovered my plans are loose, they asked if I wanted to join them. "Always say yes" number two! Gerardo, a young entrepreneur from Tabasco (NOT the sauce), offered me floor space in his hotel room to crash. "Always say yes" number three. And, when we arrived in Cologne at 7am, the first place we headed was to that hotel room. Mexicans teamed with Scandinavians makes for some heavy partying on the train!
I woke up before Gerardo, only to discover that it is1:30pm. The game isat 4, but it isover an hour away by train in Geldenkirchen. I wake Gerardo up, who begins to panic, calls his nephews (who were supposed to meet us at the hotel, but went right to the stadium instead) and sends me to find additional train schedules. I race down to the receptionist and get a list. No use! We'll never make it to the game before it starts and Gerardo was hoping to get some tickets off the street. The two of us regroup and decide to get to FanFest (the free TV projection area outside the stadium) as soon as we can. Gerardo dives into his jersey and green face paint and we race to the station.
But now to get train tickets! I have my Eurail pass, which saves me the headache, but Gerardo has nothing. We fight with three machines before finally getting one to work. It spits out a ticket entirely in German and we pray that everything will be correct. We get to the track where the train is supposed to be with one minute to spare.
The train is 25 minutes late.
Once arriving in Geldenkirchen, we look for the stadium. Where is it!? Football stadiums are so large that they usually stick out! Turns out we need to get on another train to get to the station. We fight another machine and procure Gerardo a second ticket. As we step on the train, however, I hear the conductor say, "There are delays on this track." I bolt for the door, grabbing Gerardo, but the door slams shut. We wait in the crammed train for 15 minutes before it starts moving. At least two other trains whiz by.
We get to FanFest by the end of the first half. The score is 2-1, Portugal is ahead. But FanFest is packed! The police are turning people away! I look around to see if I can see a back entrance. There is nothing! We're shut out! Rejected, but determined to watch the rest of the game, we cram ourselves in to a small German pub. The TV is one of the smallest I've seen. And the bar is FILLED with Mexicans. Gerardo gets a beer, I settle in to hold our spot, and we brace ourselves for a Mexico comeback.
It never occurs.
Despite the cheering, the shouting, the thrown beers, the cursing, the laughing, the crying, the score stays at 2-1. But, what is that we hear? Angola and Iran tied. So, according to the World Cup rules, Mexico is in! The crowd roars, start singing "Olé" and begins a trend of hugging me in a show of true Mexican-American solidarity. We sing, dance, hug and kiss all the way back to Cologne.
I woke up before Gerardo, only to discover that it is1:30pm. The game isat 4, but it isover an hour away by train in Geldenkirchen. I wake Gerardo up, who begins to panic, calls his nephews (who were supposed to meet us at the hotel, but went right to the stadium instead) and sends me to find additional train schedules. I race down to the receptionist and get a list. No use! We'll never make it to the game before it starts and Gerardo was hoping to get some tickets off the street. The two of us regroup and decide to get to FanFest (the free TV projection area outside the stadium) as soon as we can. Gerardo dives into his jersey and green face paint and we race to the station.
But now to get train tickets! I have my Eurail pass, which saves me the headache, but Gerardo has nothing. We fight with three machines before finally getting one to work. It spits out a ticket entirely in German and we pray that everything will be correct. We get to the track where the train is supposed to be with one minute to spare.
The train is 25 minutes late.
Once arriving in Geldenkirchen, we look for the stadium. Where is it!? Football stadiums are so large that they usually stick out! Turns out we need to get on another train to get to the station. We fight another machine and procure Gerardo a second ticket. As we step on the train, however, I hear the conductor say, "There are delays on this track." I bolt for the door, grabbing Gerardo, but the door slams shut. We wait in the crammed train for 15 minutes before it starts moving. At least two other trains whiz by.
We get to FanFest by the end of the first half. The score is 2-1, Portugal is ahead. But FanFest is packed! The police are turning people away! I look around to see if I can see a back entrance. There is nothing! We're shut out! Rejected, but determined to watch the rest of the game, we cram ourselves in to a small German pub. The TV is one of the smallest I've seen. And the bar is FILLED with Mexicans. Gerardo gets a beer, I settle in to hold our spot, and we brace ourselves for a Mexico comeback.
It never occurs.
Despite the cheering, the shouting, the thrown beers, the cursing, the laughing, the crying, the score stays at 2-1. But, what is that we hear? Angola and Iran tied. So, according to the World Cup rules, Mexico is in! The crowd roars, start singing "Olé" and begins a trend of hugging me in a show of true Mexican-American solidarity. We sing, dance, hug and kiss all the way back to Cologne.
posted by Ethan at 8:49 AM
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