Nageln: The drinking game that involves swinging hammers, what could go wrong?

I can't seem to get out of Vienna.

This is not because I particularly love this city, I don't. It's okay. However the Ruthensteiner Hostel seems to yield up new and interesting and fun people every day. It is very clean and large, it is very comfortable. They also have their own bar until 11pm which serves cheap drinks including a local still fermenting wine call "sturm". It is kind of the perfect place to pre buzz and then saunter into the night. What has tended to happen is that you meet up with people there, and decide to explore the night together. This is how I met Macgyver, Suzie, Nacho, Calgary, Whizkid, Kurt, and Hammer.

Macgyver is realy named Gary and he is an extremely youthful looking 39 year old tatoo artist from Frankfurt. His mother was Chinese so he has large dark almond colored eyes, he is into rockabilly and wears his hair wet with a modest pompadour. He is called Macgyver because is earnest and organized and seemingly prepared for anything. For a tatoo artist his visable tattoos are modest, half sleeves on the upper part of his arms, asian characters and koi and the AC/DC fly. He has a policy at his shop to not give neck and face tats to anyone under 25.

Suzie is really named Suzie. She is 21 from Wisconsin on a work visa in Frankfurt, a visa that will end in January and end her relationship with Gary. She has insanely long eyelashes, an easy smile, and is the only vegetarian I have ever met from cattle country. She wants to be a nurse.

Nacho is a hilariously forward lothario from Argentina. He can play guitar a little and all he knows how to play are panty droppers, talks out his ass constantly, and flucuates from being an over the top douchebag you want to slap, and being admirably charming in a stubbornly foolhardy way. Probably he and I share this trait, only he is more unscrupulous.

Calgary is really name Micala, she is very beautiful and every guy at the Hostel has tried to hook up with her except me. The reason I have not is because when I first arrived I had a dire bathroom emergency that came from a 12 hour train ride in a compartment with six people having eaten two Bratwurst at Munich station before I left. I got to my dorm ran in, and made horrid and terrfying noises. When I finally came out, she was sitting on her bunk nearest the toilet door and say "Hey." I have not tried anything. Also she has a boyfriend anyway, what am I? Nacho?

Whizkid is from Chicago, and studies Philosophy at Dartmouth. He is very serious and his hand eye coordination is not the best. Don't joke with him that philosophy is a worthless major even if you studied it too.

Kurt is a very tall, very hilarious kid from Vancouver. He was walking on cars after awhile and inviting anyne we passed to join us, especially he sketchiest and scariest characters we saw. Probably he is going to be coming with me through Slovakia, Hungary, and Romania.

Hammer is also Canadian, he looks exactly like the third friend from Swingers, loves to talk technically about hockey, and clearly was an athlete because of his reaction when suceeding in bar games.

Hostel Ruthensteiner, as I have mentioned has guitars on the walls for public use, as well as a hand drum and a piano at the bar. Calgary had been getting free lessons from the guys who could play even a little the whole time she was here. Really only one person in the whole place was any good, but he was Costa Rican and so he didn't know many pop songs. Which is how we got stuck with Nacho. I had taken Macgyver and Suzie up the street to show them the best pizza/kebab place amongst the sea of them on the main road. By and by, a popular pizza in Austria is salami and corn. Macgyver was also on a mission to find some Strongbow cider, as it was his favorite, and he has a tendency to get very single minded. In fact he ran off and left me and Suzie so he could find some, while we got falafels.

By the time we had gotten back the bar room in the Hostel was full, everyone sitting in a circle, Miles the cyclist who is also coming to Hungary with me, a couple from Brazil, an Israeli who had just gotten out of the army, probably fifteen people, and Nacho was playing "Don't Look Back in Anger" and everyone was singing, which I of course joined immediately, they enthusiastically made space for me and we were on. For two hours people would look up tab, or from the Beatles songbook and then we'd play, in between there was a lot of conversation and laughing and cheap good beers. By 11 oclock when the lame bartender made us leave, I had monopolized all the ladies Nacho was trying to get the atention of (Because no matter how much I grow up, I am still ridiculously competitive), except Calagry. I think I was talking stupid shit about Edvard Munch to Suzie and these two Aussies called Alexandra and Jen, I kept trying to get Macgyver to hang with us but he was discussing an army tattoo that the Israeli soldier wanted.

The awesome vibe evaporated in the short migration to the next room. It simply was not situated for the big circle, and immediately half the people went to bed and the rest had to segregate into groups. By now, there was no one that wasn't well buzzed or out and out intoxicated. This is when the crew described above decided to go to Travelbar which was very close. Inside people were dancing lasciviously on the tables, and Gary went straight for an odd tree stump with a ton of nails driven into it. He had taken a hammer and stuck several nails in te stump, very straight and precise. Suzie explained to me we were about to play nageln, which is where drunk people use the thin backside of a hammer to try and drive their nail into the stump. You swing once and pass left, last one to drive their nail buys shots for everyone. I looked at Kurt nervously and he nodded and seemed to understand the implication of the look.

Again. The drinking game is using the THIN part of a HAMMER to VIOLENTLY drive NAILS into WOOD. While DRUNK and still DRINKING. This is not beer pong, in Germany/Austria they do not play beer pong. I don't suggest you even mention it.

The secret is to make your arm completely straight and to not bend your wrist. Some people swing hard like the hare and some soft like the tortoise. Macgyver told me horror stories of what he had personally seen go wrong, but he assured me it was very rare. Afterall he was letting Suzie play and he was clearly very much in love with her. This game took an hour, and the bar started to close around us. In the end the Gary had won, obviously, and Nacho was annoyingly second. I was slightly ahead of Suzie and Kurt who would moan whenever I actually hit my nail, obviously most of the time you miss you glance off of it. Whiz Kid was doing so badly that Calgary was sweetly putting her head on his shoulder for comfort, which immediately brought over the kid from Argentina. Hammer though, was the worst, he had not even hit it when he reared back and hit the nail so directly that a spark flew and he was immediately tied with me.

Hammer roared like a linebacker who had just knocked the helmet off of a receiver over the middle on 3rd down. He flexed and exulted and we cheered him. I was happy for him because he had been kind of embarassed. Except Kurt, who was threatening to kill Hammer with his thumbs, somehow.

Me: Your thumbs?

Kurt: Yes. I am a Navy Seal.

Me: You're Canadian.

Kurt: You're next.

Honestly, I love Kurt.

I came in forth, just behind Hammer who hit one of his John Henry blows again a few minutes later. By this time the bartender had turned off the lights and Macgyver had pulled a mini flashlight from somewhere and was shining it like a spotlight on the stump. Whiz Kid came in last by a lot, but did not have to buy drinks. Calgary had adopted a drunk American girl who had been forgotten and left in the restroom, she did not know where she was staying.

It was now nearly 3am. Kurt wanted to stay out and was very vocal, Calgary agreed and Nacho was going where Calgary went. The Hostel clerk told us about a couple places that would still be operating, but he didn't give them high praise. We didn't care, and said good night to Gary and Suzie and went back out.

The bar/nightclub as unmarked. Which usually means great things, or terrible. We kicked it open and immediately were assailed by the strong scent of marijuana. There were no women here, and the men were filthy, and laughing, and shouting at eachother in mirthful tones in languages I didn't understand. The walls were lined with soft and disgusting leather couches. In the morning after being here when I finally took a shower, even my underwear smelled like smoke. We warily took seats the end of the bar and scrounged up the coins for four more beers. The man to my left was drumming along with the hard rock that was playing, and I was forced by Nacho into yet another "Denny defends America" discussion. I have gotten very adept at this, and soon had him backtracking and espousing his respect for my homeland. Though he did make a few decent points, such as I refer to myself as "American" and he also is an American, as well as the two Canadians with us. Also, apparently the US is the only country in the world that teaches there are seven continents instead of six, which I suppose implies arrogance for holdng ourselves apart.

Calgary announced she was headed to the restroom and Nacho excused himself shortly after, and Kurt and I rolled our eyes at eachother.

Kurt: I'd totally go after her, but she's out of my league.

Me: Nonsense. She likes you more than Nacho, she keeps talking about how funny you are.

Kurt: It's amazing how your standards change after six weeks. That sort of chubby busty girl that was in the Hostel with her family... I mean she has a head like Stewie and I was like, in my head "I could tear that up, I just gotta get her Mom away." What's wrong with me?

Me: Her sister is there too.

Kurt: Yes! Oh My God...she's a monster!

He was referring to Lena and Corlena, two severe faced sisters who were Austrian and yet staying in the Hostel. Lena had been wearing a heavy jacket and yet somehow there was a nearly obscene amount of cleavage.

As we were speaking, suddenly there materialized a stocky blonde German man, with long blonde dreads, and a lazy eye. He, more or less, looked right at me and said : "What are you doing here?"

The conversation was off, me telling him I loved the established history, something we Americans couldn't compete with. Laying it on thick, because this man was part of a large group and seemed dangerous. Next to him was a little Austrian man with rotten teeth who only knew pop culture English words and tried to use them as insults and weapons.

"Fuck Arnold Schwarzenegger. HAHAHAHAHA."

He also, oddly, had a very good knowledge of Red Hot Chili Peppers lyrics. He wanted to fight, he kept demanding I punch him.

Now, in Europe, the best diplomacy and easiest way to make friends is to know the biggest soccer star in the country where your assailant is from. In this case, Germany, and the player is midfielder Michael Ballack. If you plan on traveling I suggest watching the World Cup this summer. As soon as I started dropping the names I know from my rudimentary knowledge of the sport. Soon, all but the rotten toothed flea fan were my old friends, Kurt was impressed and we saw Calgary leave looking upset. Nacho followed soon behind. We both knew what that meant, we also knew we had to finish these beers that had been bought for us, either way I was now enjoying this talk with these professional drinkers. I was telling them they didn't want us in the US to ever get serious about soccer, with our size and resources and will to win. They agreed, and when we parted they were all insisting I visit their respective homes, leaving mobile numbers and email addresses.

I fell into my bunk at 6AM. Nacho was still rowing against the current downstairs. The kitchen was locked so I could not hydrate and knew the hangover was coming, and fast. I would be staying in Vienna one more night.