Nightglow Window

Sunday, February 04, 2007

Munich day one

It's about a quarter mile from the Messestadt subway stop to the mammoth Messe Munchen trade show complex, and it’s usually the march of death for a warm-weather SoCal guy like me. In years past, this is where the wind has blown stinging snow onto my face, fingers have gone numb, and my chin has burrowed into my chest as I tried in vain to stay warm.

But this morning the large pond in front of the convention center is calm, the grass around it green and a few wispy clouds drift through the blue sky. It's almost nice.

That's the problem, unfortunately. The whole of Europe is experiencing a snow drought and there's not enough snow. Some resorts in Austria, I'm told, are still grass fields. The upshot is that orders will be down -- especially for the hardgood companies. Some say it could be as bad as a 30-percent hit.

But there's still quite a bit of traffic here at the show. We step into the large, glass atrium and the warm air inside does feel nice. Too much smoke, though. The show supposedly went smoke free last year, but it's still hit and miss. Better than it's been, but still a lung buster in some places.

Since this is Josh's first time at the show (and because I enjoy the whole experience) we start by walking the entire show. This doesn't sound nearly as impressive as it actually is. It's like the largest sporting goods show in the world and fills 16 huge halls, each as big as a couple of soccer fields.

As it should, snowboarding occupies the front of the show and it's where most of the energy and crowds are. In the second hall, A2, we run into Jeff H, who has a small booth in the Board_ispo Shop Summit area of the show. He looks bored and jumps at the chance to walk the halls with us. We talk about the skate supplement and the crazy reaction it’s received on some of the skateboarding Web site forums.

We walk through the ispovision hall, which has always impressed me with its presentation. Then we head into the wasteland of ski fashion and general fashion. The crowds disappear, the aisles become easy to navigate, and Jeff bails back to his booth. Things pick up in the outdoor section, where there's a climbing competition underway. I can't pull myself away, but finally head into the real wasteland: first there's a huge fitness hall, then the ski area, and team sports. Cool to see all the latest table tennis products and if you ever want your own personalized shot put you know where to go, but the point is just to see the sheer scope of the show.

Walking the show takes about an hour of solid walking, but it's worth the experience. We have a short lunch with old friend Trey C, who is the editor of Source -- the European version of T-dub Business. He says Chamonix is bone dry, but that the climbing has been steller. He drops a bomb that he's been invited to climb K2, the second tallest mountain in the world and by far the hardest and most dangerous to get up. It will be his second 8,000 meter peak. Pretty cool, but I worry about him. During the 80s the mortality rate on K2 neared 50 percent.

Lunch over, Josh and I separate to divide and conquer. Three very productive hours ensue. I interview a lot of people about the current market situation. (You'll have to log on to www.twsbiz.com to read more on that).

But jet lag has sunk its teeth into me by now as we leave the show. The thirteen-stop ride on the Subway back to the Hauptbahnhof is a yawnfest as Josh and I struggle to stay awake. We get back to the hotel and crash out for two hours and then walk downtown to grab dinner, missing the Billabong snowboard movie premiere that started at some crazy early hour (like 7 p.m.)

Oh well, decision time. The Pleasure party is way across town and a bit of a crapshoot, but we roll the dice and grab a cab. The Nachtwerk club is relatively empty when we get there, but quickly fills to the brim. We see a few familiar faces, but it's crazy to be at an industry party and recognize so few folks. It's a young Euro snowboard crowd and it's a fun scene, but we duck out around 11 p.m. and catch a cab to the Hard Rock.

What a change! We go from the realm of the young, hip euro snowboarder to the vanilla crowd of American football fans. I make the mistake of talking during the national anthem and get a sharp rebuke from a Marine who has risen from his seat and stands with his hand over his heart. I pipe down, suitably chastened.

The game is pretty good, but the network sucks -- no American commercials and the commentators are super lacking. I talk to Ken and Doog and Doug and a bunch of other familiar faces. The Connecticut couple from the Hofbrauhaus is even there and buys us a beer. But the clock is ticking.

So I ditch Josh (who shows no interest in leaving) and walk out alone. I pull my beanie down low, gloved hands buried in pockets, as I walk through an empty Marienplatz and down a deserted Neuhauser Strasse feeling strangely lonely and far from home, which, when you think about it, I am.

It's now 2:00 a.m. as I dash this off and I have to get up in six hours to finish a few stories. Plus it will be another big day at the trade show.