This reminded me of another of my favorite stories from Brussels, when we celebrated Carrie's birthday. For those of you who have heard my stories, you know full well that Belgium is not my most favorite of countries in which to live, mostly because of all the tension between different people who live there. I have incredibly kind Friends there, and I love visiting there--no question about it, but living there was really hard on me. This story I am about to share with you was one of the last straws that finally made me realize it was time to move back to the US as my primary residence. I apologize to those of you easily offended, but if you were there with us, you would understand that the stress of the situation we went through introduced a level of temporary Tourette's syndrome. I swear I will go to confession, and soon. So, here you go:
Brussels, December 2011
Friends, yesterday, enroute to Cologne, Germany, your good friend Sarah and her two Friends visiting from the US learned of a new holiday in Belgium called Go F**K Yourself Day. That’s right, that’s what I said. From now on, every 10th of December will hereby be known as Go F**K Yourself Day. But let’s take a minute to get you caught up, yeah?
Now, as you remember, Carrie and Ben were visiting from the US to celebrate Carrie’s birthday and take their first real extended holiday in 5 years. A lot of planning, a lot of money, and a lot of time went into making this trip the best it could be. Carrie and Ben are very dear Friends of mine, and we’ve been Friends through a lot of big things in life. I was so excited to welcome them to my second hometown of Brussels, to show them all the best things of Christmas here. Imagine my surprise and yet no surprise, when Belgium personally gave Carrie a message of “Go F**K Yourself” on the train yesterday.
We had just come off a rough, scary evening watching a Molotov cocktail being set off about 15 feet in front of us. We were in the heart of the riot zone in Brussels on Friday night, and it was not Brussels at its best. It was upsetting---really upsetting---and we needed a happy way to wind up their trip and to celebrate Carrie’s birthday. We decided to take the train to Cologne, Germany, to enjoy a perfect night under the twinkling white fairy lights, sipping gluhwein and counting our blessings. I booked us tickets on Thalys, and we settled into a small train car with two other couples.
We had settled in, iPad and iPods nestled around us, enjoying the scenery and dreaming of wooden ornaments and potato latkes with applesauce, when a tall, somewhat handsome, Arabic man stormed in and out of our car no less than 4 times. He growled at the sweet Canadian couple across from us, and the Flemish guy across from them muttered a few words. Remind me, Friends, to find out what those words are, because they, apparently, are the magical signal that Go F**K Yourself Day is about to begin.
Tall Arabic guy, in his black hat, spun around, pointed at Flemish guy and announced, loud enough for even the two cars on either side of us, “You got a problem? You can Go F**K Yourself!” He repeated this about every 4-5 seconds, taking turns pointing at us in the train car, getting angrier by the minute.
The conversation continued and went a little something like this:
Canadians: “What did you say?”
Arabic Guy: “I said you can Go F**K Yourself!”
Flemish Guy: “Why don’t YOU go f**k YOURself!”
Arabic Guy: “No, YOU f**K YOURself!”
Canadians and Americans exchange a look of WTF and remain silent.
Flemish Guy: “Jesus Christ, get out of here, Go F**k Yourself, leave us alone.”
Arabic Guy: “No, F**K YOU! F**K You man, F**K! F**K you! Go F**K Yourself!
Flemish Guy, completely calm: “NO, I said YOU can go F*CK YOURSELF! Go back to your F**KING COUNTRY!”
Arabic Guy: “No, YOU can go F**K YOURself. Do you know how to F**K yourself?! DO YOU?”
At this point, I looked up at Carrie and Ben, pretended to grab an imaginary penis and pantomimed trying to reach it around to my ass, mouthing the words, “Is this what he means?” Note to selves: this is not part of the Go F**K Yourselves pageant. Do not try this at home.
Flemish Guy: "Do I know how to F**K myself? That doesn’t even make sense.”
Arabic Guy: “Yeah! Go F**K Yourself! Go do it! F**K Your own self!”
Carrie, whispering and rolling her eyes before giggling: “Well, you both can go f**K yourselves in the mouth.” (note to selves, Carrie is a fine, upstanding, wonderful girl who had about enough of the ridiculousness of Belgium by this time and only wanted a happy birthday).
Ben: Says no words. Only shakes his head, as Carrie and I start to giggle uncontrollably, shaking in our seats, the tears starting to come out the corners of our eyes.
Sarah, setting down my iPod and looking thoughtful, “Well, I had planned on f**king my new luv-ahh, but now that I know f**king my own self is an option, I might try that instead!” I said, nodding vigorously with a huge plastic Stepford Wives smile on my face.
Carrie, with her own Stepford Wives Face: “Oh yes, Sarah, you can! You CAN Go F**K Yourself!”
We could barely keep it together, we were laughing so hard as Ben just rolled his eyes, still shaking his head, trying to bite his tongue. I got control of myself and said with a straight face,
“I’m just so glad you’re here to once again enjoy the beauty of my second home country. I’m selfishly glad SOMEONE sees this happen, because I can’t make this up. What a special message for you today.” I paused, adjusted my iPod, looked up again and said in a very serious tone, “Oh, and you can Go F**K Yourselves,” as I pantomimed terrible things, like poking my tongue against the side of my cheek multiple times.
Carrie, right on cue: “Merry F**king Christmas! Go F**K Yourself!”
By this time Flemish Guy and Arabic Guy noticed us.
Flemish Guy: “Go on,” he said as he pointed to Arabic Guy, “Get out of here. Go F**K Yourself you F**ker.”
The F**K Yourself pageantry continued for some time, until it was almost not even funny anymore.
Sarah, finally having had enough, “Come ON people. It’s Christmas! Just stop it!” I then pointed to the exit, pointed at Arabic Guy and said, “Please just go.” He left, telling us all we could, of course, f**k ourselves, as the door closed shut behind him.
The car went silent. After a moment, we all started exchanging quiet looks. Finally, I announced rather loudly, “Well Carrie, on behalf of the entire European Union and all Belgians, I’d just like to take this moment to apologize to you. Happy Birthday, Merry Christmas, and Go F**K Yourself.” We had a good laugh about it, because we just really needed that after all the chaos of the weekend.
And so, yet another Belgian adventure with your good friend Sarah came to a close. We enjoyed the Christmas Markets and had a perfect night before sending them off to the airport today. I miss you already Carrie and Ben, and I love you like good Family, you are so special to me. I am so sorry this trip was not what we hoped it would be, and I thank you for just rolling with whatever came along. I hope you have a very, very happy birthday this year, but you’d better believe that every birthday card to you from now on will include the words,
“Happy Birthday, with love, Go F**K Yourself,
Your Good Friend Sarah.
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