So, I’m listening to angry German music from many moons ago–yes, yes, on the Fourth of July–and thinking of what was, perhaps, the oddest Fourth of July celebration of my life. (Being honest, I’m surprised I remembered all the words to the song…It’s been a long time. Hence the reason I found German romance authors on Twitter and follow them… To see if I can still make out what they’re tweeting!)
In any case, it was the Fourth of July…a long time ago. I was 21. I was dating a British guy at the time, Dave. I didn’t have a car, so I asked him to go buy me some sparklers. I don’t know where he got them from, and to this day, I question their legality, but whatever. He had a friend come to our makeshift celebration. Jan, I think his name was. Anyway, so there I am with a German guy, the British boyfriend, and I’m carrying an American flag. I’m sure we made quite the trio.
Anyway, as night started to fall, Jan took out his zippo lighter and lit the sparklers. And holy shizzle, Batman, I am either the biggest bee-yatch on Earth, or my powers of persuasion are amazing. (It’s probably the former)
Because I handed the boys the lyrics to the Star Spangled Banner and made them sing it with me. (Well, begged, cajoled, and flirted until they agreed. I think I even agreed to sing the German national anthem and God Save the Queen if they sang it with me. After my illustrious performance with The Star Spangled Banner, I was…ahem…not required to sing anything else.)
So there we are: the German, the Brit and the American, singing The Star Spangled Banner as the sun set over Germany. Well, they sang when they weren’t mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like watermelon, watermelon under their breaths. It’s okay. I sang loud enough for all of us.
Then I broke out some Dutch beer, and we toasted “The Yanks,” and we broke out the bratwurst and ate. It was great. Weird, but great.