Karnival calls for a pub crawl.

November 11th at 11:11 marks the start of a three month soiree. Introducing: Karnival. Karnival is a prelude celebration to Ash Wednesday, otherwise known as the beginning of Lent. So, what Germans and many other Europeans do is take advantage of every moment before their 40 days of spiritual fasting. The real parties don't kick up until the last minute and the biggest party of all isn't until Fat Tuesday. Still, we have to begin celebrating sooner or later, which is why Germans have deemed November 11th as an honorable starting point.

A family friend threw a party for children at her home in Dusseldorf which my kids and I gladly attended. A common tradition during Karnival festivities is to dress up in costumes that are similar to those worn on Halloween, but less spooky and more jovial. In this house we had more pirates than I have toes and enough Spidermen to last a lifetime. We stuffed those kids with so much sweet that even I, a renowned sweet tooth, was disgusted. Gummi Bear cake, Sweetie pie, banana chocolate muffins, strawberry lolly pops, sugar infused juices and cream cheese pizza. Diabetes was on a roll tonight.

When 6 o' clock came around and parents returned for their kids, the house was a wreck and I was freed from my duties. The party we attended was also thrown by the family my new friend Kate au pairs for. The Mom had suggested I go out for a change and spend the night there, so I packed my bags and prepared for a slumber afterparty.

Kate called up Sebastian, new friend #2, and we hit the town with our sights set on a pub crawl. First stop, Uerige, a traditional brewery that sells alt bier, the beer common and known to Dusseldorf. We made our way through the maze of the bar and into a private room in which we imbibed our first of many drinks that night.

Immediately ready for more, we wandered the streets of Old Town (the older part of the city) looking for a particular Spaniard who works in a bar that wasn't open that night. Instead, we flipped around to spot Stutton's Irish Pub where "everyone speaks English." We ordered a round of Hefinwizen and discussed morals and principles under the ebb of inebriation. Our waitress was wearing the latest in green-bottle fashions, so I politely asked her name (Laura) and took her picture. Heineken represent!

We later migrated to The Red Lounge where I was promised extremely good looking young men to which there were none. Kate managed to accidentally flirt with our British server, but that was the extent of it. We discussed viewpoints on Stella vs. Heineken and decided to settle for a Heine. I traveled all the way to Germany to order a beer that is invasive in the Pacific, it's heresy. Later, Sebastian and Kate took a shot the Romanian way:

We wrapped up our crawl with a place called The Pretty Vacant Club. As you can see, the sign above the door reads:

"Never mind the VIP
Here is the

PRETTY VACANT CLUB
Happy New Year"

Sebastian ordered us a nameless beer with lime (delicious) and we blatently stared at the only good looking guy in Germany. Unfortunately, he wasn't nearly as good looking up close. So, we downed our glasses and ran for falafels. Luckily, we also caught the last tram and made it home in one piece.