I have always had this glamorous idea of New Year’s Eve in my head ever since I started to really celebrate that holiday. Now, usually I ended up at some house party, drunk off my ass and just sort of hanging out and celebrating the beginning of the New Year half asleep on a couch. That all changed when I moved to Europe. On December 31, 2015 I was talking to a few friends of mine, all of whom lived near me, and convinced them to take part in a 4 hour drive to the biggest New Year’s Eve party city in Europe: Berlin.
It’s 4 p.m. on New Year’s Eve and I have convinced 5 other people to not only travel to Berlin, but to use one of their vehicles in order to make the trip. In all fairness though I had a coupe and driving in that with 5 grown adults for four hours would have been miserable. The driver, Kyle, gets some music pumping and I decide to hop in the trunk area so I can be near the booze.
At around 6 p.m. I am extremely bored, so I take it upon myself to start to drink the liquor bottles that are in the trunk with me. It’s about 30 minutes into me making/drinking/spilling red bull vodkas in Kyle’s trunk that I declare myself the only member of “Club Backseat”. It is also at this point that I decide to throw in my headphones for my personal mp3 player and start belting out the lyrics to “Roar” by Katy Perry, over the music in the car. A passenger or two might have started complaining. This doesn’t bother me since I have the volume in my headphones turned to “Bang on the Neighbor’s Wall Loud”.
After singing loudly, starting to annoy half the people in the car (the other half really wanted to be a part of Club Backseat) and consuming a half bottle of Vodka we finally made it the city. It took an extra 25 minutes of us trying to get through the blocked off roads before we actually made it to our hotel.
We all get to our one shared room and the two girls start to get ready to go out. The three guys and I throw on whatever we brought and then try to consume all the liquor we had before we even make it out of the hotel room.
We finally end up leaving the hotel around 11 and are headed to the major city center where all of the fireworks are going to be displayed. Four blocks from where we want to end up we realize we made a few critical errors:
1- We did not bring anything to drink with us.
2- We waited waayyyy to long to actually go to the city center as there are approximately 1 million people there and we have no shot at getting close to where we wanted to be.
3- Only 1 of us thought to bring a jacket and it was December in Germany.
4- We did not bring anything to drink with us.
Upon realizing all of this I wandered around and tried to fix errors 1 and 4, hey that’s half our problems right?
I just ended up purchasing some extremely overpriced bottles of champagne, one for before midnight and one for after midnight. After this we work on trying to find a spot to see the fireworks, which was quite easy considering there were multiple cops with barricades on EVERY street corner. We walked to some side street and had a great view of the whole square. Time Check: 11:37.
11:41 – We finish the first bottle of champagne and start to get cold and realize we need more to drink.
11:45 – None of us are really talking, sort of just waiting around hoping time will go faster.
11:48 – I want to just go somewhere warm and get alcohol.
11:53 – I try to convince the group that we should just leave and go to a bar.
11:57 – IT WORKS! Lindsay pops the top off the 2nd champagne bottle and sprays it everywhere, chugs the rest of it, and screams “HAPPY NEW YEAR!” We all do the same and start cheering. Every German around us gets startled, possibly offended, and keeps their distance.
In the time from that, to us trying to find a bar, we were walking down a quiet side street when midnight stuck. No more than 2 minutes after midnight, we round a corner and the city is in total chaos. There is not a cop in site, every barrier is knocked over and people are literally shooting fireworks at each other in the street. It’s a complete mob mentality. I am having trouble keeping track of everyone. If you ever want to know what being in combat is like but have no desire to actually get shot at, go to Berlin for New Year’s Eve.
We all decide that we should go to a Strip Club. Kyle looks on his phone: there is one 3 miles away, and since there is no way we are going to be getting a cab in the middle of fucking Fallujah, it looks like we are walking.
As we are walking the two girls, in our party somehow acquire bottle rockets and are partaking in the “try to set a person on fire” festivities. Along with two of the guys who end up convincing these three German ladies to come with us to the strip club, it is starting to look like Santa’s island of misfit drunks. At about halfway through the walk the two drunk girls, Lindsay and Kelly, are hitting EVERY FUCKING THING with that stupid stick from the roman candles, and I am losing my fucking mind with them screaming “HIIIIYAHH” at the top of their lungs every time they do it. The two guys who brought along the German Charmed sisters are too busy hitting on them to worry about the trivial things, like getting lost or stabbed.
Between no alcohol and everyone I brought agitating me I get excited when we are about 300 meters from the Strip Club. I start to look around for the front door and realize we are in a very shady part of Berlin. There is broken glass everywhere and syringes litter the alleyways. We are supposed to be directly in front of the strip club we were going to when we all had the same sad realization: it was closed.
By now it is a little past 1 a.m. and I am getting furious. Nothing is going my way and I just had to lead these eight people through a low budget World War II movie. I decided to say fuck it, I won’t lead this drunken expedition any longer. I made the group decide what are next move was going to be. They chose to get a cab and go find some titties (maybe I do have good friends).
It is now closer to two in the morning and there are nine drunken people fighting to get the attention of two cabs (another issue we had: nine people can’t fit in one backseat). Somehow the Gods of Alcohol were smiling on us and we actually end up hailing down two cabs at the same time. As we are piling into the two cabs one of the girls we ended up meeting in Berlin decides she doesn’t want to go to a Strip Club anymore. Andrew and Shutoff are trying to convince these girls to come while the taxi drivers are yelling at us to hurry up in German, so what do we do? Just say ok and go where they want: nope. The original six get into the cabs and take off, leaving those three poor girls sitting on the side of a road, nearly in tears since they have “no idea where the fuck we are”, sorry but fortune favors the bold, or something.
Apparently all it takes for a taxi driver in Berlin to take you to a strip club is by having grown adults shake your chest at them and constantly yelling “Titties!” at them, thanks Lindsay.
It is sometime around 2:30 and we arrive at our Shangri-La: Tutti Frutti. As we enter the doors we are greeted by no one who speaks English and enough cigarette smoke to where you couldn’t see five feet in front of you. We have arrived. The next two hours consist of us drinking like prohibition was coming, now the fun begins.
While sitting at the stage Andrew hands the Stripper a “Tutti Frutti Dollar” (In Europe you do not tip in euros since the smallest bill they have is a 5 Euro that’s like 7 dollars. You buy coupons that work the same way as dollar bills in the states. At the end of the night the strippers turn them into their seedy Russian…handlers?… and get cash in exchange, or less time off of their indentured services. Who says I can’t be informative.) and then lightly taps her on the ass. She looks back and shakes her finger no. Andrew, being the gentleman that he is, apologizes and hands her another “dollar”. The moment she turns around he smacks her so hard on the ass, I’m pretty sure he left a handprint. She turns around and is about to start yelling when he hands her a few more “dollars”. She just shrugs and smiles, I guess everyone does have their price.
Once you spend enough time with someone and drink with them enough you know when they’ve hit their limit and should probably be taken home. If my friends and I did that then I feel like I would never have anything to write about. I bring this up because after a few hours of red bull vodkas, the girls got invited to go dance on stage. They enthusiastically jump up and start dancing with the Stripper. It turns from dancing, to kissing, to dancing, to kissing, it was kind of like watching a porn that never actually got to the porn part. In the middle of the dancing, Lindsay drops it “down low” and then in her drunken white girl haze, could not figure out how to “bring it back up”. Stripper being the nice lady she is, tries to help her and Lindsay just pulls her down too. If I wasn’t drunk and super turned on I probably would have laughed. Luckily after a hard fought battle and having to close one eye to stand, all three girls are back to dancing.
The guys in the group all head outside to smoke a cigar when the manager tells us we can get free shots at the bar, we do the shots with him and then he starts to tell us that if the girls wanted to work here there is a place for them. I thank him kindly by telling him I think they are “well adjusted” but I’ll keep him in mind.
Andrew and Shutoff end up meeting this Stripper covered in tattoos, from head to toe. She convinced them, who convinced all of us that we needed to go upstairs to the “VIP area”. Once we get upstairs we realized this is the best decision we have made all night: they have a buffet. This buffet consisted of chicken wings, crab cakes, champagne, and shrimp. All of which was been sitting out on this table for god knows how long and in order to actually see the food you have to wave your hands over it to get the cigarette smoke out of the way. To this day those were some of the best chicken wings I have ever had, I ended up eating almost all of them.
After my third or fourth trip to the buffet I come back to our little booth area and I notice Shutoff is missing. I look around and he is easily to find. He has his shirt off with his belt around his neck and this stripper is choking him with it. I have never seen anyone happier in my life (Shutoff, not the stripper).
Between that, Kelly throwing up in the bathroom, and Andrew realizing he isn’t going to get to fuck tattooed stripper we all decided that since the sun is up it’s a good time to go home. As we are walking out Andrew says he got TattedStrippers number, Shutoff says he did as well. They proceed to argue for twenty minutes about who she likes more. I think she hates herself the most. For some reason I ask the manager what time they close as we are leaving “Not until noon, at least, it’s New Year’s Eve.” Fuck that.
There is a little extra part that happened when we got back to the hotel. Basically Shutoff shoved the top portion of a Ciroc bottle in his ass, it got stuck and Andrew kept hitting it to fuck with him. I didn’t believe it either, until I saw it the next morning and there was a nice thin layer of brown shit over the whole top of it. The end.