Work, work, work….that’s all Olga Buccholz did any more. If she wasn’t slaving away at the office, then she was toiling away at home.
There was a time when Olga’s life was about more than work. When she was younger, Olga spent every Friday and Saturday night partying at Berlin’s hottest nightclubs. During the week, you’d find her at a concert, a movie, or out to dinner with friends. But then Wilhelm came along, followed by their two children, followed by a move to the suburbs. Olga and Wilhelm had agreed that the suburbs would be the best place to raise their children. Get a house…not an apartment, but an actual house…one with a garden and a place for the Volvo. What could be better?
A bit of excitement once in awhile, that’s what. Real estate agents are great at telling you all about the advantages of the burbs, but none of them ever tell you about how boring they are. The last time Olga and Wilhelm experienced any bit of excitement was when one of their two trees got knocked down in a windstorm. Wilhelm had to build a whole new clothesline when that happened. Good thing he got around to it right away, unlike the other projects around the house; otherwise she’d have no place to hang the load of laundry she just did.
“One thing. Just one exciting thing,” Olga wished on the morning of November 12, 2014 as she hung her boys undershorts on the line.
No sooner did she say that when something up in the sky caught her eye. At first glance, she thought that it was just an airplane. Living close to Schoenfeld Airport, she saw a lot of them. But what she saw wasn’t an airplane. It was something falling from the clouds.
“Is it a skydiver?” Olga wondered. “Gee, I hope it’s not a bomb. Whatever it is, it’s coming down fast. I need to get out of here!”
With the slam of a door, Olga was safely back inside her house, and with a slam of its own, the mysterious object from the sky crashed into Olga and Wilhelm’s backyard. There wasn’t an explosion following the crash, so Olga reasoned that it mustn’t have been a bomb, which gave her the confidence to look out her kitchen window. Greeting her eyes was a suitcase; an expensive looking one from what Olga could tell from her viewpoint.
Stepping outside, Olga approached the suitcase with care, just in case there was a time delayed bomb inside. There wasn’t, but there was a name tag on the outside. A name tag that read: Bono.
“Bono? As in ‘lead singer of U2’ Bono?” Olga said out loud.
Yes Olga, as in ‘lead singer of U2’ Bono. Within hours, it was all over the news that the famous singer’s private plane had lost a latch as it was coming in for a landing at Schoenfeld Airport. No one was hurt, and the only thing lost – besides the hatch – was his suitcase. The very same suitcase that came to rest in Olga Buccholz’s backyard.
Olga debated whether or not she should open it. It was, after all, private property, but it was also Bono’s! The world’s most famous singer! Anything could have been in it – money, drugs, Sir Paul McCartney’s phone number. Surely Bono knew the former Beatle!
The temptation was too great. Olga had to know, so with a pair of gardening shears, she tore into the singer’s suitcase. Sadly, the contents of his suitcase were just as boring as the suburbs of Berlin. A few toiletries, two changes of clothing, and a few pairs of boxers. Wait, there was something beneath all of the mundane stuff; something that was soft, pink, and fluffy. A teddy bear.
Olga immediately wanted to know what a big time rock star was doing travelling with a teddy bear. Did he sleep with it? No! He’s a rock star and rock stars sleep with models, or in Bono’s case, with his wife.
But Bono did like to sleep with that teddy bear. Being a rock star and world philanthropist is stressful and without Mr. Loveum Woveum, Bono’s insomnia got the best of him. That’s why a few weeks later, Bono’s exhaustion caused him to fall off the bike he was riding through New York’s Central Park. The injuries to his left arm and eye socket were so extensive, they required multiple surgeries, plates and pins. To this day, he still can’t play his guitar.
Get well wishes poured in from around the world. Included among them was a card from Olga Buchholz. No return of the teddy bear, though, just a card. That bear was the most exciting thing to have happened to her in a long time, and she wasn’t going to give it up for anyone. Not even Bono.