E It could have been so beautiful. “Snow in Bremen again, we should use it to exercise and have fun, so: warm invitation to the first self-organized snowball fight in Leibniz Park!” says a message that goes through all kinds of groups. And: “Fair play (no ice, no stones, no Nazis).”
But then Bremen had to prove once again that this city simply can’t handle snow. Other cities actually had “exercise and fun”. Leipzig, for example: “Mass snowball fight leads to police action,” writes one newspaper. Or Winterberg: “Curious police operation: mass brawl is just a snowball fight.” Bremen, on the other hand: bad-tempered northern Germans, canceled local transport and a sleepy park.
It’s 5:05 p.m. and not a single snowball in sight. Here and there just the small remains of the children who slowly have to go home: a collapsed snowman, an attempt at an igloo, a lost glove. At least they had fun. For children in Bremen, snow still means sledding, building snowmen and, in the best case scenario, even having to miss school.
“Do you want to go to the snowball fight too?” Two men stand around in the park just as lost as we are: black clothes, warm gloves, thick hats. Now there are at least four of us. Together we look for Leipzig or Winterberg conditions, but only find a few small children sledding down a hill.
“Always these shitty autonomous people with their vague announcements,” curses one, who is probably something completely different for a long time. Post-autonomous or something. But he’s right: the park is huge. I somehow expected that young people were behind the invitation, not autonomous people. But in Bremen it is sometimes confusing. Maybe they were autonomous young people. We keep running. “I’ll call again and ask.” Two phone calls, two unreliable sources later, we still don’t know where exactly the “exercise and fun” should take place.
It’s getting dark. A woman stands between the trees; the two men know her. She’s on the phone, standing with her back to us. She has no chance. The two giggle, form snowballs, stalk each other. Suddenly the woman turns around: it’s not her. She stares confusedly at the two strange adult men standing in front of her with several snowballs in their hands. We move on quickly.
Well, then we’ll do it ourselves: two against two
It is now 5:15 p.m. We’re running out of time, it’s almost the final whistle! Well, then we’ll do it ourselves: two against two. It should probably be mentioned at this point that there are three adults and a small child. So more like two versus one and a half. But you shouldn’t underestimate small children when it comes to snowballs. They also wear better functional clothing.
The snow has the perfect snowball consistency: soft, dry, and with a little pressure it can be formed into a rock-hard ice ball. But it was called “fair play,” and there’s still a toddler playing here. So we stick with loose snowballs that look more like cotton than ammunition. A few snowballs fly through the air, we don’t hit anything, but we still have fun. We won’t last long. It’s getting dark, it’s getting cold, and soon no one except the toddler feels like it anymore.
This text comes from the weekday. Our weekly newspaper from the left! Every week, wochentaz is about the world as it is – and as it could be. A left-wing weekly newspaper with a voice, attitude and the special taz view of the world. New every Saturday at the kiosk and of course by subscription.
“I’ll throw the house on the way home the head of the Office for the Protection of the Constitution with snowballs!” The man forms a few good snowballs and sets off. A lot of spontaneity for a post-autonomous person. We’d rather go home. On the way there is a message: “You’re in the wrong park! There were three of us here…” Crap.
But next year, when snow falls again – that is, if – maybe a message will go through all kinds of groups again. With strict timetables, vague location descriptions and fair play rules. And maybe it will work then. Or not. Shit autonomous people.