Fear and loathing in Frankfurt/M

Schland, schland, schland! With the enigmatic Massimo lurking in the background.

Watching the game. With the enigmatic Massimo lurking in the foreground.

We were like the crazy trio from Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, Massimo, the Italian mitfahrgargler (carpooler), Thorsten, and I, packed into the small Colt hatchback and screaming down the autobahn towards Frankfurt.

The commentator of a Germany World Cup game was blaring out of the radio, the sun was glaring down and the distinctive Frankfurt skyscraper skyline was rising on the horizon and falling in and out of view through the hills, trees and turns.

Germany had conceded a goal. With a loud clap, passionate emotion emanated from the steering wheel as our driver slammed his hands in disappointment. At that point, I did not know which would prevail in the contest between carefully-developed and immaculate German driving skills and the angst and shock of a passionate German soccer fanatic.

Not long after, we made it into town in time to see the end of the game in a pub. For the record, Germany lost the match 0-1 to Serbia, and I thought I heard the sound of the obnoxious Serbian alpha-male supporter laughing all the way from Koln.

After the game, Massimo went off on his own way and Thorsten 'parked and rode' with me to Frankfurt International Aiport, where it all started, exactly five months ago, to see me off and where I will leave the reader. A new journey begins, as I meet Aimee in Arrivals for our big European backpacking adventure through 11 countries in one month. But that's another story for another blog...