Train Scam

Most people associate Germany with order and rigidity.  It is thought of as a country strict on rules and regulations.  Upon my arrival in Germany I was told that everything in Germany must be "correct."  Every rule must be followed - every law observed.  

And for the most part, this is true.  Our ball-club is fined if our scorekeeper turns in a score-sheet with even one error.  The train scheduled to arrive at 1:04, 1:24 and 1:44 arrives at 1:04, 1:24, and 1:44.  But I have found a few areas where German culture is extremely loose and inefficient:

Train Tickets (at least for foreigners):  

In order to ride the German rails one must purchase a stripe ticket.  The price of a 10 stripe ticket is 11 Euro, and the trip from my town of Vaterstetten into Munich costs 4 stripes each way (2 if you're 20 or under).  I have been on the train approximately 12 times and have been checked exactly twice.  Neither time did I have a ticket, and this is the reason:  

When a ticket checker sees that you do not have a ticket, he first asks you if you have your passport.  Whether you do or you do not, you say that you don't.  The checker does not investigate this further.  He will proceed to ask you if you have your drivers license or a credit card.  Again, you do not, and again he believes you.  At this point the checker will ask you for your name and address, and of course you are now anyone you want to be.  He hands you a ticket for 40 euros and you thank him.  You exit the train and throw the ticket in the trash with a smile on your face, because you ride the rails for free.

The Postal System:

Even if you want to be honest with the train ticket checker, you will never receive a bill.  I'm going to tell you why:  

I ordered a new camera off of Amazon.de after my coach broke mine a few weekends back. (For the curious commenter, he did pay for it)  I typed in my name and my current German address , paid via credit card, and patiently waited.  A few days later I thought I may as well let the people with whom I'm staying know that I was expecting a package.  Before leaving for the gym one day I told Melanie that I was expecting a new camera to arrive via post in the next few days.  She responded with a look of utter dread, asked me to remind her what my last name was, and told me that she believes it had already come.....only she sent it back.

It turns out that without addressing the package to Nat Ballenberg c/o Family Kirchlechner, the German mailman will return the parcel to sender.  Since Melanie was home at the time, the postman asked her if the name on the package was someone in the house that he didn't know about.  She said no.  What is the line of reasoning behind that?

"Well, I do have this kid staying with me.  His name is Nat, which is an extremely common name.  I don't know his last name, but this package is addressed to Nat Ballenberg, so....yeah....it's probably just a mistake.  I won't even ask, just send it back."

Stop Signs:

They don't exactly exist.  I have seen exactly 1 stop sign in two months.  There is however a general rule of the road.  When at an intersection, one must yield to any cars coming from his right.  This sounds fine in theory, but in reality it is stupid.

Think about a general "T" intersection.  In the U.S. the  car that can no longer go straight either has a stop sign or abides by the road rule stating that he must stop before making the turn.  In Germany, this car has the right of way to turn right without even looking.  Instead, the car on the main road must slow and yield to any lunatic flying around the corner from his right.

And don't get me started on four way intersections.  What if four cars get there at the same time?  No one is legally allowed to move, and because this is Germany, no one will.

I'll keep you updated as I find more inefficiencies in the world's most efficient country.

Picture Book Style II

Australian Kacee really wanted to check out the Australian bar in Munich, so a few of my teammates and I decided to accompany him.  The plan was to check out the bar, grab some dinner there, relax a little while, and head home.   That is not what happened.

Having known myself for over 24 years I knew there was a good chance that I would enjoy nothing on the menu and decided to eat at home before accompanying my teammates into the city.  One look at Outland's menu proved me right.  I am not one to try exotic dishes like crocodile or emu, so a menu highlighted by these doesn't exaclty jive with my whole grilled chicken thing.  That being said, I tried crocodile.  After instantly turning down Kacee's offer to try a bite of his chicken-looking meal, I reconsidered.  "When will I ever have another chance to try crocodile," I thought.  The answer was never, and that changed my mind.  And although all I could think about while I chewed was this crocodile hunting prey in Australia, it really wasn't that bad.  

It was still early when my teammates finished their meals, so we decided to check out a second destination.  Having no knowledge of the city we left this part up to 18 year old Kevin, a phenomenal kid with seemingly no knowledge of Munich.  Here is a picture of our fearless leader guiding us towards our second stop:

The confident face of our fearless leader.

After asking directions several times and looking hopelessly confused for half an hour, Kevin brought us to the part of Munich I would frequent only if looking to be stabbed in the chest and left to die in the sewer.  This shady part of town is home to a row of about six to ten clubs, including Americano,  our second destination.  

My hopes of being asleep before 3 AM were dashed within five minuts.  After Kacee and Tom each downed 2 shots and were half-way through their first mixed drink I decided I better strap up and prepare for the long haul.  

It was early still, so we hung out by the bar and talked for a while, but soon enough the club began to hop and it was time to break out the business cards:

"Excuse me, ladies.  I'm Ted Mosby.  Architect."

"What does this mean?"

"You know: mind of an artist, hands of a master craftsman."

"Huh?"

"I'm an architect.  And my name's Ted Mosby.  But it's not, and it's a joke."

(blank stares)

At this point I decided to call in the cavalry.  I waved my boys over and we proceeded to take about 80 pictures and start a dance party with these Eastern European girls.  (They were from Poland, or Romania, or Slovakia, or Czechoslovakia, or something else ending with vakia.  I don't really care.)

Yeah.  I have a really sweet beard now.

We were far too awesome at dancing and picture taking for our Axis allies, but after they left we needed a little breather and caught some cool air under the fan until Kevin spotted a bachelor party.  Obviously, I broke out Mosby.

"Ted Mosby.  *click...wink*  Architect."

"What is this?"

"Your last chance before you tie the knot."

"Huh."

"Forget about this.  Congratulations on your upcoming nuptials."

We had found new compatriots and started a new dance party around the time of my interaction with the bride to be, but it was not until The Pirates of the Caribbean theme song came on at 2 AM that my night really peaked.  

In the corner of the club there was a tiny stage with a pole.  This area remained unoccupied for most of the night.  After placing my new friend's scarf around my head like a bandana I jumped onto the stage, grabbed the pole, and proceeded to 'play pirate' for the next three minutes. 

After my stunning stage performance

The dance parties eventually took their toll, and at 3:07 we decided to call it quits.  Kevin, who had been in charge of all things travel related, relayed to us that we had yet again missed the last train home, and after a few instances of Kacee trying to befriend strangers on the street we found ourselves safely in a cab.  

20 minutes later I was at home, already reminiscing about a night that could have only been better had Tom not broken my camera, which, by the way, will cost more to fix than it will to buy a new one.  So boo.

Audy Rodriguez

Sorry it's been so long since my last post.  I've been caught up with ball the last few weeks.  With that in mind, allow me to present you with a player profile on my teammate Audy Rodriguez.

Name:  Audy Rodriguez

Team:  Baldham Boars

Birthplace:  Dominican Republic

Age:  37 (or so he says)

Nickname:  none

Nickname he has for everyone else:  Jim (pronounced 'Jeem')

Languages spoken:  Spanish, German, English

Languages in which he is fluent:  none

Favorite saying:  "Forget about this, Jeem."

Position:  Third base

Highest Level of Baseball: Minor League affiliate of the Toronto Blue Jays (probably about 15 years ago when he was 22 and claimed to be 17)

Actual Conversation Between Audy, Jan-Phillip, and Nat Ballenberg:

Nat:  (to Audy)  Do you have any kids?

Audy:  Huh?

Nat:  Hijos?

Audy:  I have a son.

Nat:  How old is he?

Audy:  (to Jan-Phillip in German)  How old is my son?

Jan-Phillip: (to Audy in German)  15.

Audy:  (to Nat)  15.

Actual Conversation Between Audy, Kacee, Nat, and some random girl at a gas station:

Audy:  (to Kacee)  Jeem!  Come over here.  (Random Girls' name) , this is Kacee.

Kacee:  (to Random Girl)  How do you do?

Random Girl: Hi.

Audy:  (to me)  Jeem!  Come over here.  (Random Girls' name), this is Jeem.

Me:  Hi.

Random Girl:  Hi.

What he says everytime a groundball is hit to shortstop, whether it be hard hit, slowly hit, up the middle, in the hole, or directly at the shortstop:  Fore  (This means forward and is usually poor advice.)

Number of consecutive days he had Kacee kidnapped:  Two days

Favorite Movie:  8 Mile

Favorite thing for him to have me do:  The freestyle rap from the end of 8 mile.

Worst decision of my life:  Letting him know that I know the freestyle rap from the end of 8 mile.

This is all I know about Audy, but let me assure you it is more than enough.