Four Americans, one German, and the Ghanaian that saved us all

These tragic pictures are the most accurate representation of the evening that preceded them.

It all started because my friends Bailey, Teddy, Rachel, and I felt the need to eat sausage. We were in Germany, so it felt necessary. Bailey (also a fellow DIS Blogger – check out his blog here) found a restaurant that seemed promising and navigated us there. We were excited, but also nervous, though none of us knew why. After waiting outside the door for like 30 seconds just staring at the place, Bailey bravely pushed open the door, and was met with a burgundy velvet curtain. We walked through the curtain in single file, and it kind of felt like we were in some sort of strange theatrical production. The waitress asked us something in German. Teddy, thinking quickly, decided she must have asked us how many, so he held up four fingers, and she indicated that we should sit at the table in the corner that was nearly impossible to get into. After climbing into the seats very ungracefully, we looked at our menus and, craving some authentic German sausage, decided to each order the same meal: Wiener Schnitzel (I know, I know, just wait). A few minutes later, the waitress came over to take our order. Problem was, she didn’t speak any English.

Rachel, God bless her, took the lead, pointing to the menu and indicating that we wanted 4 of the same meal. As she was trying to figure out how to translate “are there any nuts in this meal?” (because Teddy is very allergic to nuts and we didn’t want to kill him), we were all saved by the Ghanaian man who worked in the kitchen. Our waitress saw him, dragged him over, and he became our personal waiter for the evening. He was the nicest and I really wish we knew his name because he was so helpful and sweet and (mostly) knew English.

Cut to about 20 minutes later, when our food arrived. Rachel and I got our plates first, and looked down, expecting to see sausage. What we saw instead was a slab of fried chicken the size of our heads on a bed of french fries. I so wish there was a picture of all our faces when our food arrived, because I’m sure they were priceless. After some googling, we discovered our mistake: Wiener Schnitzel is not sausage. Rather, it is the national dish of Austria, and is traditionally a thin cut of chicken, veal, or pork that is breaded and fried. Somehow, the only 4 people in the known universe who didn’t know this all went to dinner together, which led to a lot of laughing and ultimately resulted in a 3 hour dinner because we couldn’t get anyone’s attention to pay for the meal for like an hour after we’d finished eating.

So if you’re ever in the neighborhood, go to Erika’s Eck and order the Weiner Schnitzel; it’s very good. But maybe don’t tell them it was us that sent you.

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