HO-LY FUCK.

So I get back to my hotel last night around 11:30 and stop by the bar for a nightcap.  I chat with the bartender for a bit and he seems to recognize that I know a bit about making drinks, so he tells me I simply must go to Schumman's Bar because they have the best cocktails in Germany and it's only a few minutes away.   I don't really feel like leaving the hotel again (nor do I want another drink), but it seems like if I don't go this guy is going to take it personally.

So I go and grab a seat at the bar.  I'm sitting there drinking my drink (a "Brooklyn") and reading my book when the bartender asks if I can scoot over a bit to make room for one more stool.  It's already pretty cramped, but I grudgingly slide over a bit.  The guy that sits down next to me says something to me in German, I say I don't speak German, so he looks at my book and says in perfect English "I like Philip Roth a lot, but I didn't much care for 'Everyman'" and then I crapped my pants because the person talking to me was Oliver Kahn.  Quite possibly the greatest goalkeeper of all time.  (I searched YouTube for a clip or two of him in action but they all are set to terrible club music.  Typical.).

Anyway, he was with some supermodel looking chick so I didn't really want to bother him, but I mentioned that I played in goal back in America and was a big fan; he was surprised anyone in the US knew who he was, but he really just wanted to discuss Philip Roth ("I thought 'Everyman' was too sad: it's all just about growing old.")  He downed four soda waters in half an hour and then was gone.