Greg Tales(woo-oo): The Slippers of Terror

It's almost a year to the day that I got questioned by German police for terrorism. So what better time to re-live this tale of espionage and intrigue....

I had finally found my feet in Berlin. I had a lovely apartment and for the first time in a long time felt like I could settle down and sit back for a while. One evening I was enjoying a good book in the living room. There came a knock at my door, I wasn't expecting anyone but I marked my page and went to the door.

There were two police men standing in their green and black uniforms. They started talking but my German was still in it's infancy, so I called for my new housemate Martina to translate.

They started a fast discussion which I couldn't follow at all - ominously one of the cops pointed at me. Martina told me to get my shoes and passport as I had to go with the policemen right away.

not at all intimidating

As far as I was aware I was yet to commit any serious offences in Germany, so I wasn't too concerned at this point. I was escorted into the back of the waiting police car and we blazed off to the station with the siren wailing away. It all seemed quite surreal at this point.

When we arrived there were no less than ten police men and women waiting for my arrival. It was explained that I speak 'keine Deutsch' and thankfully another officer who spoke quite good English took over proceedings, although his questions served only to confuse me.

What are your connections abroad? What is your reason for being in Berlin? Why are you not registered here? Do you know where the American Embassy is? And something in very broken English which sparked panic in my brain. 'terrorism'. 

I was thoroughly confused, but the constant questioning on this strange topic was making me worried. 'What if I am a terrorist? I could be a manchurian candidate and, as it happens, I do know where the American embassy is....'

As it turns out my older brother had sent me some birthday presents; A package which included amongst other things an alarm clock. The package was ticking so naturally it had to be a bomb! The parcel was handed to me, and the mood all of a sudden seemed much more cheery as I had seemingly placated their fears. I opened the parcel and pretended to flinch in fear as the paper ripped. Sure enough a small clock and a pair of slippers emerged.

 Die infidels!

The police wished me well with a half-arsed chorus of 'happy birthday', and told me that if Ii hadn't been home they would have done a controlled explosion as a precaution. They then sent me on my way. I had found my feet in Berlin alright, and their need to be warm almost cost me my freedom.

Back home poor Martina was relieved to find out that her new housemate wasn't a member of Al Quaida after all. Now nobody will suspect a thing....


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