You’re Not One of Those Fags Who Drinks Bottled Water...

...especially when you're paying for it in fucking euros. However, your Diet Pepsi addiction is slowly burning a hole in your already threadbare True Religion jeans' pocket (you paid extra for that distressed feature). Meanwhile you technically haven't actually had a Diet Pepsi since you left New York, since all you could find in the Alps was Coke Light (which, incidentally, is a thousand times better than the swill called Diet Coke that they sell in the states). But now that you and your BFF have left the Ski Fag trip to join your Literary Lot of Writer Friends for a few days in Berlin, you were sure you'd be able to find a bottle or two of your favorite diet elixir. Unfortunately you've had no such luck.

Since there were four of your friends on overlapping European vacations, you ended up booking an amazing two-bedroom apartment at The Circus Hostel and descending upon East Berlin. After checking in, you find your Home Schooled Writer Friend sitting in the lobby, totally jet lagged and about to fall asleep. You give Home School a double cheek Eurokiss (even though he's straight), and then he immediately produces yesterday's Metro paper from his trendy Manhattan Portage Messenger Bag. You quickly scan the front page headline and realize that one of your Lit Lot friends (the male half of the Overly Affectionate Straight Couple that is sharing the Berlin Apartment with you) has somehow become The Most Hated Man in New York since you left! And all he did to deserve this title was to be poor enough to enter (and win) a New York City Housing Lottery. Four years ago. You burst out laughing mostly because not only is he the Nicest Man in New York, he is also the Luckiest. And his good fortune has much more to do with recently falling for your Straight Girlfriend than with winning the Housing Lotto and purchasing an Upper East Side Studio for $14,000 (plus $295/month maintenance). Anyway.

Eventually your Straight Girlfriend and The Most Hated Man in New York return from an Overly Affectionate bike tour of Berlin and you all go out to a super cute Vietnamese Restaurant called Manngo on Mulackstraße. You've been dragging all day from your Diet Pepsi withdrawal so you order a Vodka Red Bull and quickly become so giddy and wired that you almost get kicked out for laughing too loudly while telling explicit bathing stories about the horrible Bower in Chamonix. Afterwards you all head over to an amazingly fucking cool space called Tacheles, which is an old bombed (and only semi-restored) Jewish department store that was taken over by squatters moonlighting as graffiti artists after the Berlin Wall fell. Every floor has some new bar or gallery to explore, and despite the fact that it is, ahem, not gay, it is the coolest bar you've ever been to. Every once in a while the Breeders do get something right. But, as usual, you digress. You all drink lots and lots of German Beer as you explore each level of the space, and then you and your BFF break off from the straight Lit Lot in order to explore Berlin's dirty gay scene.

When you emerge from the U-Bahn subway, you are a little bit disoriented and a lot bit drunk (especially since it's not only legal, yet encouraged to travel everywhere in Berlin with an oversized open bottle of beer). You wind up asking some Persian Boy with an Abnormally Large Face for help with directions to Tom's. And just like everybody else in Germany, the Large Faced Boy speaks perfect English. He decides to personally escort you to the bar, and on the way he starts offering way too much information about how he just left Tom's after having sex with some Random Trick in the Downstairs Dark Room. When you arrive at the Tom's, the Large Faced Boy's Random Trick is still cruising Tom's (presumably for someone with smaller facial features) and when Large Face Boy introduces you to the Random Trick, he actually extends his hand which you reluctantly shake. You quietly pray to yourself that the Random Trick has washed his dirty hands after finishing up with Large Faced Boy in the Downstairs Dark Room.

After a few more beers, Large Faced Boy walks you over to a gay club called Connection and it's really hopping. The place is an absolute maze, and Large Faced Boy takes you and your BFF on a tour of all the different rooms and levels. However, when you end up downstairs and stumble into a Hot Mess of Dirty Boys doing Dirty Gay Things, you and your BFF instantly begin to giggle uncomfortably, and unfortunately your giggles soon turn into uncontrollable laughter. Which, needless to say, is completely inappropriate and extremely unwelcomed by the Dirty Gay Boys. Especially by the Bitchiest Old Queen This Side Of France who somehow manages to give you the Fish Eye from her very compromising position. So you quickly giggle your goodbyes to the Large Faced Boy just as you get a text from Home School telling you to come meet him at a mixed disco called Berghain.

You arrive to the club at 4am yet somehow wind up in a massive queue with Home School. He's now traveling solo since the Overly Affectionate Straight Couple has gone back to the hostel. Probably to do nasty straight things that you shudder to think about. Not that there's anything wrong with that. As long as they do their heterosexual business in the privacy of their own homes... Behind closed doors and sound-proof walls, of course... But you digress. Your BFF disappears briefly to find a place to pee, yet returns with German sized beers for everyone. He's just thoughtful like that! After an hour of standing in line and meeting adorable Swedish Girls who speak English better than any of the published Lit Lot, you finally get admitted to the club around 5am-ish. You and your BFF immediately ditch Home School and instinctively race to the gay floor. The next thing you know you are dancing on a raised platform to Calvin Harris and you are happier than a gay boy surrounded by Wiener Schnitzel (which you are, Blanche! Y'are!) You dance until the Wiener Schnitzel's shirts start coming off, and then you decide to slink off the stage because after a week of eating fromage in France, you have definitely gotten a bit too Gay Fat to be pulling off your Burqa and exposing more jiggly flesh than the Gay Koran allows any Gay Boy to expose in a Mixed Club.

The next thing you know it's noon and you are in your twin bed(wonder how that happened?) Only you don't wonder too hard because it hurts your throbbing head way too much. Eventually the five of you arise and head over to a nearby cafe called November to have a nice long leisurely brunch. But unfortunately the service is even more non-existent than it was in France (you actually got yelled at when you asked the Bitchy Waiter for tap water). You, ironically, Wait for your Waiter to bring the check for at least twenty minutes. Eventually you decide to embark on a mission to find him and ask for your check as well beg him for another thimble of tap water. Only when you locate the Waiter Who Makes You Wait, he instantly yells at you and gives you an all-too familiar Fish Eye (you obviously had trouble placing his face without the dick in his mouth). As usual, you are way too hungover to argue when he brings you a €4 bottle of lukewarm water (which he has already added to the check). You give him a snarky smile and, you guessed it, he gives you the Fish Eye. Anyway...