Berlin Before Nine

Woke up in Sara’s bed with a head full of the previous night and the immediate awareness that I didn’t know where my shoes were. Pulled the curtain back and there it was—Berlin sunrise over the rooftops, that pale early light that makes you momentarily believe the city is beautiful rather than just interesting. Carsten was already philosophizing somewhere about the Beatles and old women who go lawn bowling at seven in the morning, which was the correct tone for the hour.

The night had started at Belushi’s for pre-drinks, then we followed iHeartBerlin’s reliably good advice to the Deep Throat Action Party at Weise Puff—a place with fat cats to pet and free pretzels, which is honestly all I require from a venue. We’d had vague intentions of pushing on to WMF on Klosterstraße afterward, but by then the residual alcohol was running logistics and the logistics said go home. So we did. Fell asleep during Friends. I love Joey. I have always loved Joey. I make no apologies for this.

Now it’s an absurd early hour, I’m inexplicably awake with an urge to wash every dish I own, and my uncle has put actual money in my account for the first time in weeks. Berlin before it remembers how to be Berlin—before everyone wakes up and starts performing the city—is the version worth staying up for. That’s just the truth.