Due to interests of foreigners from not-German-speaking countries, I’ll write the next few posts in English – its good practice for you and me anyway.
So, here we are, at home with the two gay host fathers. But let me start from the beginning: The Flight.
I’m not sure if it was the worst place I ever sat in a plane before – but it’s for sure quite near to it. I found my seat right in between an old, stinky (she literally was STINKING), grouchy grandma from India (that besides wasn’t really a nerd in English – and forget the other languages!) AND a little, stinky, very loud baby pack (that included two twins: one hitting, the other crying, until they swapped roles) …which by the way assured my motivation to take condoms till I’m 50 – and hope that it’s too late by then anyway.
Thanks god, the agony past relatively fast (9 goddamn hours – and another 30 minutes delay extra, cause it was sooo amusing!)
Well, and now I’m living in a little house (4 meters wide, 2 floors) with a Mexican guy (who’s really bad in English) and Tony (44), the cool gay event planner – and tomorrow’s gay pride, what a timing!
