Gluhwein and a Mixture of Nuts

I think I need to preface this by saying I, myself, did nothing interesting in this blog, but other people showed their nuttiness. Kind of disappointing, but I guess some days I am normal.

Last night was the Happiest Place on Earth; at least, that’s where I was taken by Ruthann. Oh it was splendid and I’m definitely going repeatedly until they close on Christmas Eve! Ruthann and I are going again next week. And where is this said place? Why the Criskindlmarket in downtown Chicago. Ruthann has been telling me about this place and said, “Bring your gloves Friday. We are drinking Gluhwein.”

Gluhwein? Yes, tastiness in a boot. Boot? Ah, yes, the red ceramic Santa boot with a handle in which they pour Gluhwein - warmed red wine mixed with brandy or rum. You buy the boot then you keep going back for refills. It’s an outdoor market in the middle of a plaza downtown with a huge Christmas lighted tree. During your drunken fest, because it’s pretty potent, you walk around and get in line while drinking from your boot for what Ruthann calls “brandy beans” which translated to German are Weinbrand Bohnen - brandy filled chocolates. Then you walk over if you don’t need a refill to the candied warm nut tent. Then you walk, again, if you don’t need a refill to look at the other tents full of German paraphernalia. Kind of. What I did was just walk around and stare at the hot German men working in the tents. Don’t hate, there is something to be said for German men, or rather European men in general. “Yum!” is what I like to say. Ha.

During the last half of our Gluhwein drinking we were in the middle of a crowd of scary frozen looking children that were suffering in their strollers as their parents drank and I noticed this very tall full head of hair woman walking towards me. She was quite an older, very large broad woman with super sturdy small heeled ankle boots on. I tried not to look directly as she sauntered over to me and Ruthann, but I like looking at full head of hair women because I wish I could fluff mine out and still look normal. Then she stopped within one foot of me which felt a little space invading. I noticed her looking away so I scoped her out at the same time Ruthann did. It wasn’t a woman…it was a man dressed as a woman in winter wear. I looked back at Ruthann as she looked at me. Then He/She sidled closer to me! And stayed in my space for at least 5 minutes. Ruthann and I tried to resume our conversation but I think we both blanked at what we could talk about. Finally He/She moved on but it was still slightly unsettling because He/She had walked directly toward me, stopped and stayed and didn’t do anything, talk to anyone, or even say something to me! Strange. I love drag queens. Love ‘em!

When I was telling my German mom about my experience at the market and brandy beans she exclaims, “Oh Lydia, please, if you get me anything for Christmas, get me some of those brandy beans! And send some to Helga and then have her call me and we’ll eat them and get drunk together.” Really Mom, really? Helga is her sister. Apparently when they were growing up my grandma would throw a large holiday party and cook for everyone and there was a plethora of brandy beans around that the kids (my mom and her sister) would steal and be pretty drunk by the end of the night.

Finally we were done drinking and lo and behold, a Blue line stop opens right on the left side of the plaza. And it stops less than 10 minute walk to my house as well. So I paid and waited for the O’Hare direction. During which time a woman in her late 30’s/early 40’s fell down the stairs of the Blue line and got up and pretended nothing happened. I mean, I turned just in time to see the last part of the fall…it was like 15 steps of crash! bump! whap! With all her shopping bags flying over her head with her.  Fortunately, her family was all there to help her. She looked like she had a little too much Gluhwein like me. If I had fallen like that, which I have fallen embarrassingly before, I just lay there for a minute and laugh my ass off. What else can you really do when you thoroughly humiliate yourself publically?

Moral of the Story: The German Christmas culture mixes many nuts…just keep drinking Gluhwein and it will be fine.