Ahhh, Easter. One more in our string of pointless and annoying holidays. I am already on the record regarding Valentine’s Day (aka Pathetic Day of Weenitude for the Lovefflicted), and HA HA HA and Ball Bag have covered St. Patrick’s Day and Easter, respectively.
This leads us to my two next-favorite, and a little walk down memory lane. When I moved to Germany as a young whippersnapper, it was around Easter time. As I expected, everything was closed for the holiday so that the fat German shopkeepers could hang around at home, sorting their recycling and stuffing themselves with sausages and–that most mysterious of all foodstuffs–quark. No I don’t mean the elementary particle: this quark involves dairy. Meanwhile, the rest of us, who have, natürlich, forgotten to buy everything the previous day, are elbowing our way to the gas station coolers to fight over ancient packets of bologna.
After Easter, next on the list of shop-closing holidays is Pfingsten. The only appropriate response to this is “Gesundheit,” as any smart traveler knows. Next come the mysterious twins, Christi Himmelfahrt and Maria Himmelfahrt. These are when Jesus and his mother both rocket up to the heavens by fart power. No, really, they do. Himmel. Fart. Would I lie about this?
It’s much nicer in English, anyway, where Jesus has the ascension (still rockets up to the sky, this time by jet pack) and Maria has the assumption. In scientific terms this means she dissolves into the sky in a great glittering cloud of sparkly molecules. As really effing special as that all sounds, I’d still prefer to be able to buy my dinner anywhere other than a gas station.