Total Eclipse? Well, not Exactly. Sonnenfinsternicht 1999
AlteCocker was in Europe in August 1999 and was determined to see the extravaganza that was the European total eclipse. At the time she was home exchanging in Hamburg in the north of Germany. The eclipse was, of course, in the south. The only solution was to drive south into the zone of totality. Taking a train was out of the question. The trains were booked to 150% of capacity. AlteCocker was not crazy about driving. OK, Germany is not the United States, but it still would be a very long drive.
As luck would have had it, AlteCocker had a friend in Berlin who also wanted to see the eclipse and we set out to see the great event, known in German as "sonnenfinsternis" (no that is not a typo in the title, just wait). On August 10, 1999, we drove all day and settled in a small hotel in the area along the Rhine, but way out in the countryside where the hotels were cheaper. We were well positioned to do the rest of the drive the following day.
Well, August 11th arrived and the two of us--and half of Germany--set out for the zone. We settled on the little town of Pirmasens near the French frontier. As we drove into the zone the clouds magically began to clear. Was AlteCocker actually going to see the great event?
Well this is what happened.
We arrived in Pirmasens, found a parking space (no mean feat), and AlteCocker whipped out a tube of eclipse glasses she had brought to Germany with her. In order to be certain to have the special glasses and not burn out her eyeballs, AlteCocker had purchased the glasses in the United States. To do so, however, she was obliged to buy 50 pairs of glasses--as though she were a wholesaler. While some had been given away to friends along the way, on the day of the eclipse, AlteCocker had at least 35 pairs of glasses remaining.
Now, AlteCocker had the last eclipse glasses in Europe--and she knew it. All the news programs said that none were to be had for blood money. AlteCocker was deluged with frantic eclipse glasses buyers the moment she took them out of the mailing tube. "Six marks", said AlteCocker, quickly figuring out what three times the price of her original investment would be (in days before the euro). As the moon began to eat up the sun, the glasses went like hotcakes.
Only one person complained that eclipse glasses were previously given away for free. AlteCocker explained that she had paid for her eclipse glasses. They were not free. He purchased. Then there was one guy who tried to discuss the price with AlteCocker in German--and it was obvious that his German was even more pathetic than AlteCocker's. He was an American. Another sale.
As the eclipse began to reach totality, AlteCocker's friend poked her and pointed to the sky. Ominous clouds appeared in the East. "We have 5 minutes," he said--and he was right. Five minutes later the heavens opened up. AlteCocker, between sales, had seen about 70% of totality, but that was it. For AlteCocker the eclipse was over. She and her friend made a hasty exit from the square in Pirmasens wary of irate buyers of eclipse glasses who might try and demand refunds.
Everyone was laughing at the ridiculous situation. Everyone was also quite wet. Well, leaving the square AlteCocker tripped on one of the cobblestones (bad history here with cobblestones in Europe) and down she went. AlteCocker's friend wondered why AlteCocker's legs were crossed, when he perused her seated unceremoniously on the pavement. Well, you see, AlteCocker's pants were wet from the rain, but that was not the only reason.
Repairing quickly to a bar for a much needed drink, AlteCocker "watched" the eclipse from inside the bar, running out at totality just to say she had been there even if she hadn't seen a damn thing. When the sun began to come back, the hardy wet souls on in the square of Pirmasens who had watched the eclipse on a big screen TV, began to cheer. They were even wetter than AlteCocker--although perhaps not for the same reason.
So that was how the 1999 "sonnenfinsternis" became "sonnenfinsternicht"--and the subject of this totally ridiculous story.
In 2081 AlteCocker plans to be in Europe for the next European total eclipse. She will, however, be carrying souvenir caps, t-shirts, as several thousand pairs of eclipse glasses and trash bag ponchos. Heck, if she had done that in 1999 AlteCocker could have paid for her entire trip instead of just the trip from Berlin to Pirmasens.
After the noneclipse ended, AlteCocker repaired to the bathroom in a somewhat futile attempt to clean up, after which she and her friend had lunch. They then faced the world's largest traffic jam to get back to Berlin. They laughed about the eclipse glasses in the rain all the way back. My pal never knew what had really happened to me, however, until he read the entire tale online.
In 2081 AlteCocker is gonna wear Depends (which is the brand name for adult diapers in the US).
As luck would have had it, AlteCocker had a friend in Berlin who also wanted to see the eclipse and we set out to see the great event, known in German as "sonnenfinsternis" (no that is not a typo in the title, just wait). On August 10, 1999, we drove all day and settled in a small hotel in the area along the Rhine, but way out in the countryside where the hotels were cheaper. We were well positioned to do the rest of the drive the following day.
Well, August 11th arrived and the two of us--and half of Germany--set out for the zone. We settled on the little town of Pirmasens near the French frontier. As we drove into the zone the clouds magically began to clear. Was AlteCocker actually going to see the great event?
Well this is what happened.
We arrived in Pirmasens, found a parking space (no mean feat), and AlteCocker whipped out a tube of eclipse glasses she had brought to Germany with her. In order to be certain to have the special glasses and not burn out her eyeballs, AlteCocker had purchased the glasses in the United States. To do so, however, she was obliged to buy 50 pairs of glasses--as though she were a wholesaler. While some had been given away to friends along the way, on the day of the eclipse, AlteCocker had at least 35 pairs of glasses remaining.
Now, AlteCocker had the last eclipse glasses in Europe--and she knew it. All the news programs said that none were to be had for blood money. AlteCocker was deluged with frantic eclipse glasses buyers the moment she took them out of the mailing tube. "Six marks", said AlteCocker, quickly figuring out what three times the price of her original investment would be (in days before the euro). As the moon began to eat up the sun, the glasses went like hotcakes.
Only one person complained that eclipse glasses were previously given away for free. AlteCocker explained that she had paid for her eclipse glasses. They were not free. He purchased. Then there was one guy who tried to discuss the price with AlteCocker in German--and it was obvious that his German was even more pathetic than AlteCocker's. He was an American. Another sale.
As the eclipse began to reach totality, AlteCocker's friend poked her and pointed to the sky. Ominous clouds appeared in the East. "We have 5 minutes," he said--and he was right. Five minutes later the heavens opened up. AlteCocker, between sales, had seen about 70% of totality, but that was it. For AlteCocker the eclipse was over. She and her friend made a hasty exit from the square in Pirmasens wary of irate buyers of eclipse glasses who might try and demand refunds.
Everyone was laughing at the ridiculous situation. Everyone was also quite wet. Well, leaving the square AlteCocker tripped on one of the cobblestones (bad history here with cobblestones in Europe) and down she went. AlteCocker's friend wondered why AlteCocker's legs were crossed, when he perused her seated unceremoniously on the pavement. Well, you see, AlteCocker's pants were wet from the rain, but that was not the only reason.
Repairing quickly to a bar for a much needed drink, AlteCocker "watched" the eclipse from inside the bar, running out at totality just to say she had been there even if she hadn't seen a damn thing. When the sun began to come back, the hardy wet souls on in the square of Pirmasens who had watched the eclipse on a big screen TV, began to cheer. They were even wetter than AlteCocker--although perhaps not for the same reason.
So that was how the 1999 "sonnenfinsternis" became "sonnenfinsternicht"--and the subject of this totally ridiculous story.
In 2081 AlteCocker plans to be in Europe for the next European total eclipse. She will, however, be carrying souvenir caps, t-shirts, as several thousand pairs of eclipse glasses and trash bag ponchos. Heck, if she had done that in 1999 AlteCocker could have paid for her entire trip instead of just the trip from Berlin to Pirmasens.
After the noneclipse ended, AlteCocker repaired to the bathroom in a somewhat futile attempt to clean up, after which she and her friend had lunch. They then faced the world's largest traffic jam to get back to Berlin. They laughed about the eclipse glasses in the rain all the way back. My pal never knew what had really happened to me, however, until he read the entire tale online.
In 2081 AlteCocker is gonna wear Depends (which is the brand name for adult diapers in the US).