I’ve been in the US for four days and my throat hurts. Even here at the Philadelphia airport, it’s colder inside than outside. Did you know there’s no scientific proof for that? my girlfriend asks on the phone. Proof for what? I ask. That air conditioning makes people sick, she says. But it only affects Europeans? I ask. Yeah, she says. Crazy, right? Damn air conditioning, I say. Then she tells me that Russian drones were shot down over Polish territory, NATO wants to consult. I don’t know what she’s talking about and I tell her that. Sorry, baby, she says. I thought you’d already heard. No, I haven’t been following the news, I say. I’ve been on leave from work, where I usually write the news, and here I wanted to write something else, but now I’m wondering how the American president is posting on his own platform: What is with Russia?
I need to hang up and catch up, I tell my girlfriend. That’s what you usually say at the news desk, catch up on the news before your shift starts, and now I’m saying it to my girlfriend. I read what my colleagues at ZEIT are writing. They’ve started a live blog. I read backwards into the present and when I’m done, I look up, but on the many TV screens at the airport another breaking news story is running: Far-right activist Charlie Kirk was shot in the neck and killed on a university campus in Utah — at this point it hasn’t been publicly confirmed, but media will later report that the White House had already been informed. The current status, however, is that Kirk was shot and it’s unclear whether he’ll survive, and that it’s ruled out that the Russian drones of Iranian design over Polish territory were a mistake.
I call my girlfriend again and try to reassure her by saying I read that experts believe the Russian government under leader Vladimir Putin will need another 3 to 9 years before it can wage an actual war against Europe, against NATO, against the West – and I also believe we still have time. For what? my girlfriend asks. Time for things to get better, I say, and she says: Ok, baby, back in the Cheese-Steak Mood now! she says. Ok, I say. Sleep well, I say. Sleep well, she says. At the Philadelphia cheese steak sandwich stand I watch the grease drip from the meat. Then I buy a pink Philadelphia cap and the red cherry-flavored Halls throat drops and refresh my news apps until boarding begins for the American Airlines flight to Pittsburgh.
The views expressed in this text are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views or positions of the Goethe-Institut.
