Give Me Something To Believe In

I woke last Friday to find Ruby sitting on the couch, watching the morning news, and joined her after pouring a massive cup of black coffee. We sat and discussed the events of the evening prior. I knew that Ruby had hooked up with girls in the past and if she found one who could treat her in the manner which she deserves, then who cares if they did not include certain equipment; certainly not I. After offering my blessing for much love, hot sex, and a mutual agreement designating the couch as a no fly zone, I was off to begin my day.

I had so many issues to address before leaving on my flight to Berlin that evening. I submitted my absentee ballot a few weeks ago, now had to pack, and take my grandmother to the doctor. She has been coughing quite a bit lately; I thought it was simply an upper respiratory infection, though she could probably use something stronger than Robutussin. The doctor suggests viewing the lung via bronchoscopy; though this must take place while I am away…I guess mom can take her. “Well”, begins Dr. McStupid, “Ms. McNiff, your grandmother is probably fine; this is simply a precautionary measure. Not a thing to worry about.” She smiled up at me and I couldn’t help but return a toothy grin. I brought her home, “Now Grandma, no wild parties with naughty men while I am away!”, I joked. “Oh ya damn fool, none of them are no damn good anyway!”, she replied, laughing. I put my hand on her left cheek and kissed her right, grabbed my suitcase and told her that I would return with gifts and captivating tales from across the pond. I bid adieu to my biggest fan and left for JFK.

One to never shy away from travel, I decided to take this business trip to the next level. My publication was hosting our Seventh Annual International Innovative Architecture & Design Forum beginning Saturday and ending Tuesday evening with our Avant-Garde Ball, during which, we honored the most innovative artists of the industry. Though of course, I couldn’t stop there…I had to meet my Aussie friend Gemma for a naughty holiday and planned to extend my stay in Europe for an additional two weeks; partying jet-setter style. We stayed two evenings at Lux Eleven, located in the middle of Berlin and fine, perhaps a bit posh, though we are worth it.

Tuesday was incredibly exciting and action packed. Our event was a success and Gemma was grateful that I brought her as my date and partner in crime. Though the number of available men at this function was limited, I am a loyal friend and will share the spoils with my dearest. As Gemma chatted up a handsome Brazilian dude, I waited at the bar for a second tasty martini. Turning to make my way to my friend, I froze in place as I was met by one of the more beautiful sights of the evening. “Good evening beautiful.” said the tall, brown haired gentleman with the Aussie accent and piercing blue eyes that rivaled the waters which surround Grand Turk. “Please allow me to introduce myself; the name is James…James Michaelson.” “Frances McNiff”, I replied, as he gently kissed my extended hand. Why did I not feel the need to refer to myself as Frankie? James and I walked around the ballroom of the Hotel Adlon and for a moment I forgot that I was working and had to return to my duties. I explained that I wanted to check the status of the election at home after the event ended. He expressed interest in this as well and we agreed to meet under the Brandenburg Gate then head over to Potsdamer Platz in search of a bar with a television.

The moment I wished the final guests goodnight, signed necessary paperwork and found Gemma we walked over the Brandenburg Gate; seems that she suggested the same meeting place to her man from Ipanema. Our quartet failed in our mission to find a bar where we would have access to any progress of the U.S. election, though we did manage to find an amazing lounge along the perimeter of the square–it was too early for anything important to be revealed, therefore we did the only reasonable thing we could do–become better acquainted with our respective men.

I told James that I would drive along the Autobahn down to Munich in a week or so and he revealed that he would travel down around the same time as well to visit some friends from college. After discussing James’ plans to move to London from Melbourne for two years and my life in New York, we shared a sweet, butterfly arousing kiss. He and Joao walked Gemma and I to our hotel, in the early twilight hours as people began gathering outside of the bars, which we overlooked earlier during our search. Amazingly, these people were Obama/Biden supporters CELEBRATING in Berlin! What a great moment to be an American, an American traveling abroad…to again be proud…and hopeful. In a land where it was said that the “rubble women” rebuilt their beloved and broken city brick by brick following World War II, I stood in a square with friends, strangers, though all with a common hope for a brighter future, much brighter than when we woke this morning. In this group, a group of travelers from around the globe, local Berliners and Americans we shared this hope; it is in this hope that we all believe. James took me in his arms and as he clutched me to his body swinging me around whispered, “Congratulations Frances”.

As I now look out the window of the bus, listening to The Killers’ “All These Things That I’ve Done”, I take in the German landscape and consider how much can change in only one week…change I can believe in. -Frankie