Respecting Eurotrash
The other night I crossed the border between Switzerland and Germany. It was 1am, I was driving my French registered, left hand drive van with sunnies on the top of my head.
The German border guard lady stopped me and asked to look at my passport. So I hand over my British passport and watched her eyebrows go up. She took it off to the computer to look me up. When she came back she asked me in terrible English “Vot do you vont in Germany?” So I replied in pretty decent German, telling her that I was driving to Paderborn to deal with some family business.
Her eyebrows went up again, but this time there was definitely an amused smirk on her face as she waved me through. Respecting how eurotrash I seemed is what I like to think she was thinking.
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I think it was just a shame you weren’t wearing your kilt, that would have added just the right edge of surrealism I feel.