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My Invasion of Germany

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I was just shy of 17 years old when I received my first passport. It was the summer of 2004, the gap between my junior and senior years of high school. Packing for Germany, my biggest concern was how cool I’d look. I was and still am a humongous nerd. I was rocking only the best in khaki cargo pants, white gym shoes, a windbreaker more suitable for camping than wandering around beautiful historic cities, and a stable of ‘fun’ baseball caps that would put a real baseball player to shame. I was one fanny pack short of screaming ‘I’M A TOURIST AND MY PARENTS LET ME GO SOMEWHERE BY MYSELF, P.S. I’M AMERICAN!’ Instead, I only screamed ‘MUG ME! P.S. I’M AMERICAN!’

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