Berlin is perfect for all my angel fantasies. In the beautiful film “Wings of Desire,” angels stalk the city in long, woolly overcoats and listen to precious thoughts of the legions of sad and lonely. The angels comfort and console with their silent angel pleasantries, reaching out with their touchless angel hands and they do this selflessly and constantly, as they fly low as the unisex 80s style ponytails on their angel heads.

I’m jetlagged and humbled by the unbelievable worthlessness of the American dollar. It is Christmas night, and we trudge on wet cobblestones through the night with no star to guide us, just a travel map procured from Ulandstrasse station. The air is full of freezing water, whose mist stops at the checkpoint Charlie of my throat, my lungs refusing to allow the coldness in any further. Even though the weather is so bitterly cold it will break off your ears if you let it, I love it here, and I feel like David Bowie in “Heroes” and I am king for just today. Our early morning hotel breakfast of Nutella and boiled eggs served in tiny santa hats is wearing off, and sustenance is coming from delicious donor kebab at our nearby Turkish deli. I must remember to thank the donor for this fine meal, for if it weren’t for his kind charity, we’d go hungry tonight in the streets of Berlin since other than the Christmas markets that line the city, everything is closed. The proprietor serves up our meal, a symphony of meat, cabbage, cucumber and sauce all stuffed into the most glorious pockets of fried bread with a hearty, “MMMMMMM”… he knows how mmmm it is, and even though he hasn’t got a ponytail, I am pretty sure he’s an angel.

Our hunger not sated, just somewhat blighted, we trudge on into the night. The air bites you, hanging crystalline sharp shark teeth of water, suspended in the thick, milky mist of cold, when breathed in, shatter and pierce the tender grapes of the lungs. Everyone who is anyone is blowing their nose. The Gendaremarkt is packed with holiday revelers, but everyone is celebrating with a calm, serenity that I don’t associate with seasonal outdoor events that include imbibing tremendous amounts of alcohol. For instance, on one Christmas Day in London, the binge drinking had become such a “trend” (as opposed to the lifestyle it is now considered) the government had to set up field hospitals throughout crucial points of merriment. They like to party and they ain’t afraid to show it and they are going to celebrate the birth of the Lord with alcohol poisoning just like their fathers did before them. Berlin does it differently. There’s booze, oh yes. It flows hot from monstrous tureens in the form of the sweet and hypnotically intoxicating gluwein. It might look harmless enough, but my liver aches just in its proximity to the beverage. You drink from china cups which must be returned, along with your hefty deposit. Maybe because it’s lovely delft porcelain, maybe because you got to give the cup back, maybe it’s the hot sigh of sugar and clove that rushes out to greet your mouth when you take a drink, maybe because after you finish one then it’s your grandmother’s turn to buy, maybe because practically every single person in this country, in one way or another looks a little like Liam Neeson (even though he is not German. Or is he? He is Schindler after all. And his list tonight seems to include all comers.) – perhaps all of these civilizing elements add to make politeness part of your high. And since everyone is drinking basically the same shit, no one is getting out of line. There is no vomit on the ground, which is practically de rigeur on any weekday or weekend night in Scotland. If there wasn’t vomit on the ground and maybe just a little blood, I’d be concerned about the Scots. But there isn’t a speck or splatter of puke to be seen anywhere. Just beautiful hourglass shaped glasses tall as Heidi Klum and just as blonde with honey beer. Cones and cones of sugared almonds that heat your fingers as they bore sweet needles of pain into your old old need to see a dentist call 1800 dentist now wisdom teeth. German language versions of “Pretty Woman” and pretty dogs all around to match. Smiles and fake fur and good cheer. I feel happy and warm, and everyone is beautiful and they look like they are wearing lots of blush. It is times like these that you feel one with everything and everyone. Life is beautiful. I have to go to the bathroom.

I make my way through the crowd to the clean, efficient toilet, which is kind of like going on a plate, which isn’t so bad for the curious type, but it cost about a dollar (US) to go, so you better really enjoy it. I come out still feeling the holiday spirit and start walking back to the center of things. It is crowded but not in a Coachella way, just like in a James Taylor concert way. Lots of people but no discernible pit. Suddenly an older couple are crossing my path and the woman actually elbows me in the stomach. I wasn’t even in her way! I see her arm bend for leverage and then land across my body in a deliberate thump! You know, it is amazing how much love I have for mankind. I want to work tirelessly for the happiness of others. I give a substantial portion of my income to charity, as well as take plenty of time out of my already busy schedule for benefits, fundraisers – anything to help someone else out. But when one person does something – no matter how small or stupid – IT’S ON! I’m about to THROW DOWN but I remember that it is Christmas, and Americans have a bad enough reputation globally as it is right now. I’m jetlagged, starving, half crazy from cold and I really don’t need to make an international incident out of the whole thing. I walk away, which makes me good, but no angel.