Imagine it's the middle of the night and you're not feeling well and you go to the emergency room. And now imagine that, while you're sitting there in your state of delirium, you see two bloodied men in lederhosen and an unusually tall guy wearing an orange crown and orange clothes walk into the emergency room. At this point, you'd probably think you were dying. Or maybe that you were already dead and that this was some sort of hell or purgatory.
But you'd be wrong. Well, maybe you'd still be dying, but the appearance of these seeming apparitions wouldn't be the sign. Because this really happened yesterday.
Yes, the IESE Multi-Cultural Fair last night was a tremendous success. Excellent food, too many strange drinks from faraway lands, fabulous entertainment, and a floor that got more slippery with each passing moment. What started out as a relatively tame festival of sharing and understanding turned into a sort of rollerderby as the combination of alcohol in systems and alcohol on floor made for a hilarious (and dangerous) multicultural deathtrap.
Today the walking wounded bore the signs: Billy with a big bandage on his face after wiping out and getting a bad cut under his eye, requiring stiches. Robain with a cut and broken nose after falling in the bathroom. And finally the boys of the lederhosen. Nick slipped on some fabulous American apple pie and took a nasty spill. Demian helped him up and proceeded to slip in exactly the same spot, cutting his arm. Martijn the Dutchman took them to the hospital.
As all of this was happening, I was attempting to play my part of Master of Ceremonies. I was supposed to cohost with Bill, but he disappeared after a few minutes and only reappeared sporadically, each time with more stains on his shirt and a deeper swagger to his step. The acts were from a dozen different countries and all would've been fine had the schedule not allowed for a German beer-holding (and spilling) contest to go on immediately before the Greeks took to the stage for a dance. The entire Greek population of IESE was nearly wiped out by weisse beer. And when the Americans took to the stage, something happened to me... Suddenly I was calling a line dance. Something I'd never done before and probably will never be able to repeat. After the line dance came the pie eating contest that prevented the Brazilian capoeira demonstration from performing onstage. But it didn't stop the Mexicans and their mariachi band. The final act of the evening brought everyone together in a way only mariachis truly can.
Bodies were flying everywhere. On the stage, off the stage, over tables. At the time, most people who fell laughed, got up, and proceeded with whatever they were doing - eating, drinking, swapping spit with members of foreign countries. But in the light of the morning, things looked a little different. Today people were bruised mentally and physically, squinting in the cafeteria and holding their heads, yet still claiming it THE BEST PARTY EVER. And indeed it was.
Evgeny at the well-stocked Russian stand:
Andorran drinking contest: Patrik (Sweden) keeps an eye on Jaime (Spain). No cheating!
Atsh and Marc
Spanish flamenco dancers: Alvaro, Christina, and Javier
Dutch guys in their scary red-light booth
Persia and Israel together
Greeks getting down: Achilleas and Thanos
In a moment of heartwarming friendship, I traded my cowboy hat for Kyle's Canadian hockey helmet. Ah, neighbors!
Sato loves hanging with Spaniards
Uri (Israel) and Boris (Croatia)
Tip of the old hat
After the American show