Air and Styling…in Munich!

I made my way up from the depths of the starkly lit Munchen U-bahn and out into the dark, frosty night that had enveloped of the Olympic Park, following the fluoro-yellow “Zugangs” out into the mist. Somewhere up above a series of red lights flash in the misty sky like some alien spaceship descended like Close Encounters of the Third Kind. A deep, dank fog has descended on the city, and the solitary walk through the deserted parklands makes me feel like I could be the last person left on earth.

As I keep trudging, somewhere up ahead I can see some lights on the horizon. As I get closer, I really know that those two underground trains really were just a portal to an alien land, because up ahead Ridley Scott’s alien spacecraft emerges from the earth. Insect legs reach to the heavens, anchored to the earth by strong space-age cables to stop the spaceship from taking off, and laser beams claw into the night sky beckoning our alien friends to descend to Earth. There is a dull hum coming from straight ahead…or is it more of a roar? As I get closer I can feel the earth tremble as the roar fills the air.

A sign says Nike 6.0 Air & Style as I make my way through the bowels of the spacehip and out into the arena, and I am hit with a wall of noise: thumping music mixed with 16,000 screams. To the right a giant ramp of snow, lit up like a Star Wars X-Fighter runway, angles down towards us, and every minute or so there is some kind of spacesuit-wearing creature with board attached to his feet defying the laws of physics.

I push my way forward to get a closer look at these strange beings, who, despite their goggle-eyes, look like they could almost be short, stocky humans. But although they take the form of man, they clearly must be from another planet because no mere mortal could possibly land cab 1260 double cork mute grabs with such regularity. Even his name, Peetu Piiroinen, must be just some google-translation from his true Vulcan moniker.

And I know that the aliens have found our human weakness, trying to tempt us with absolute vision splendids in the form of Monster Girls. Those smiles they give me are just to try and lure me back to the pod ship, and no, I don’t care if your name is Holly and you kiss my cheek, I will NOT be abducted by your kind!

The action on the alien landing strip suddenly ceases, and with a scream of some harsh language a stage to the right lights up and punk music blares. Now I know for sure that I am in an alternate reality, like the limbo island in Lost, becase Sum 41 were a band that existed 10 years ago! But the thousands of night zombies seem to the enjoy the blast from the past up on the stage in front of them while I explore this alien land.

Before long the alien-men are back, whittled down to eight in number. The level of space-age trickery is mind numbing, with another of the Vulcan race, Halldor Helgason, almost stomping backside 1260 double cork japan airs, even discarding his alien goggle eyes and headware mid-trick, like a skink discards its tail. If you don’t believe in the alien action I saw, check out this video.

But the outerspace gods have decided that there can be only one winner, and as he stepped atop the dias to accept his Ring of Glory, he punched the air and his alien slit eyes shined green before all those close were doused with a sweet, sticky liquid exploding from their talons.

The show is over, and the night zombies disperse back into the dark mist of the parklands while I take the underground teleporter back to civilisation. The city is busy on a cold, dark Saturday night and as I enter the ancient arched stone gates of the old town, dark amorphous figures converge on me from the shadows, and it is not til they get closer that I see the black coats, long legs and high heels. Through the dark, narrow streets I wend, where looming towers and jagged facades crowd the misty sky above me. Evil gargoyles look down upon me, as I turn through the market stalls to find the Schrannenhalle and it’s underground secret VIP lair, where flashing lights and pulsating bodies fill the dancefloor. I throw some coins on the bar and grab a beer, and as I turn around, in the darkness I spot a couple of familiar faces and know that thankfully, I have returned to reality.