I remember Christmas at my parent's house. Germans traditionally open presents on Christmas Eve, so Christmas Day itself is usually pretty quiet. It became an agreed-upon tradition to watch one of the Star Wars (Stars War?) together. I remember my dad turning the stereo up so loud that a passing star destroyer made the nice glasses in the cabinet shake. I remember my dad snickering and turning ten years younger when my mom scolded him.

I remember drawing the short straw, making me the designated driver to get home from the punk rock concert me and my friends went to. I was 19 years old and still a very nervous driver; a fact that the raucous laughter of my three-sheets-to-the-wind friends in the backseat did nothing to assuage. I remember having to wait at a red light on the way up a hill and stalling the car no less than eight times. It took us three phases of green lights until we were able to be on our way.