The German Edge (Not a Figure Skating Movie)

4 Nov

Over the past couple of months I’ve found myself inside a number of terrifying things. (Not this, thankfully, but still…)

At one point I was inside a lava tube in an active volcano in Hawaii. Another time I was in the middle of a sleazy older couple wearing leather matrix jackets and entirely too much in the way of animal prints that was trying to take me home with them. One time I was inside a taco bell, and I was EATING. And one time I was….


But enough about that. The scariest thing I’ve been inside lately was a German knife factory filled with robots, fire pits, razors, hot pokers and knives– all just itching in their itchy little inanimate object way to maim me in some horrifying and irreversible manner.

Just because I didn't see one of these doesn't mean they don't have one.

But much like the remake of The Amityville Horror, which I managed to watch without peeing my pants by drooling over a shirtless Ryan Reynolds every time he appeared on screen, this knife factory had a legion of horror-attenuating hotties to keep me from freaking out.


Let me explain:

On the dime of a fancy knife company based in Solingen, Germany (a place that has been making knives for so long that it has been given the nickname “City of Blades”), I took a flight to Dusseldorf and drove out to the aforementioned death pit/adorable 1800s brick industrial complex to write an article about the town’s history of knifemaking. After I arrived, drank my weight in reisling and took a long nap in a hotel whose floor plan was so confusing I would swear it featured prominently in a Greek myth, I arrived at the factory with three other reporters (all straight and male), and a fabulous gay male publicist.

Yeah, good luck with that.

The head knifemaker, a white-haired, bearded man with a thick West German accent, arrives in the conference room (also full of knives) and begins telling us about what he does. Then he starts to introduce his staff.

Knifemaker: “So this is Kristian, he is our head of quality control and will be taking you on your tour”

*The most gorgeous, six-foot-plus, blue-eyed ski instructor-looking dude I have ever seen walks in *

Knifemaker: “And this is Henrick…”

*The most gorgeous, six-foot-plus, blue-eyed, BLONDE ski instructor-looking dude I have ever seen walks in *

Knifemaker: “And this is Klaus”

*The most gorgeous, probably underage, Japanime-looking german ski-instructor-looking dude I have ever seen walks in*

Gay Publicist: *Grabs my arm in alarm*

OneBad: “Hahaha… ha…. ha…did you guys just hire the German Olympic Ski Team or something?

So we start the tour with the ski team, and the very first room, which has superheaters and glowing metal and all sorts of sharp shit,  is chock full of strapping, blonde, blue-eyed knifemaker types with big shoulders and overalls.

Picture this, but with knives.

Gay Publicist: *looks nervous* Um…. we’re not dead, right? This isn’t heaven?  I mean, it’s okay if it IS heaven… I could do without all the fire but this is a heaven I can live wi… Oh GOD look at that one over there…WAIT. IS THIS HELL?!?!?

OneBad: “Shhhhhh. Shhhhhhh. It’s okay, it’s just Germany.”

It was like a magical sexual fairyland full of knives and Chippendales dancers, and despite almost being stabbed to death by sentient sharpener robots, I had a phenomenal time.  Every now and again I do find myself wondering what the cost of living is like in Solingen though…

*Stares dreamily off into space*


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