Guests at this year's Porsche Ball in the Interconti Hotel in Budapesterstrasse told the fashion police that they, too, had seen a blonde and a brunette loitering at the door around 11 p.m. It was the high point of the Berlin Film Festival at the time, so the Interconti staff were accustomed to the presence of autograph seekers in their sumptuous lobby. "But these two were different," commented Jürgen Schwulstheimer, who mans the Interconti's giant swinging door "they just stood there, like they were waiting for someone, or something." Horst Simpelsbacher, from the private security firm "Guard-a-Party" stood duty at the entrance to the Porsche Ball that night. He had already turned away hundreds of cinema tourists that evening, and said that "these two were especially annoying. They tried to tell me they were here to see the band playing at the Ball--yeah, right, like I'm gonna believe a story like that! They kept on adding to the story, saying that they had an appointment with some woman with a complicated hyphenated name like Bottelsberger-Flashenhügel who was the band manager or something. I mean, these two were really desperate. Would you believe they even tried to convince me that they really didn't give a hoot about the Porsche-Promis in the first place, and that they'd rather be home sick in bed? I mean, come on! How dumb did they think I was? Of course, I didn't let them in. I take my job very seriously".
Eyewitnesses reported that the blonde then took off into the back corridors of the Interconti, while the brunette continued to stand guard in the foyer. When asked where her companion had gone, she answered cryptically, "she's gone to look for the band."
At the women's insistence, the manager of Guard-a-Party, Manfred Klappersberger, was called to the site. Despite misgivings, he finally agreed to let the two women enter the Ballroom to see the band for the last five minutes of their performance, but not before he'd made sure that they were appropriately dressed for the event. "I couldn't think of any other way to get rid of them." he told the fashion police. As an additional security measure to protect Porshe's prominent guests, Mr. Klappersberger gave the guard, Mr. Simpelsbacher, strict instructions to remain standing between the two women at all times. The wily women, however, soon shook the guard off. He has since been looking in vain for a new job.
Guests at the Porshe Ball returning from the dance floor were astonished to find the two women sitting at their table. No one dared to ask where they'd come from. "They just sat there at the table through the next band, and all through the prize drawing, even though they obviously didn't have tickets. I couldn't believe their nerve! " exclaimed one guest, who preferred to remain anonymous as she is getting married this fall and does not wish the two women to make an appearance. When the two interlopers finally left at 2 am, the atmosphere at the Porsche Ball was noticeably more relaxed.
Dr. Bruno Müller-Oerlinghausen was the last victim of the two shameless party crashers. At a birthday extravaganza he threw for over 250 of his closest friends, the pair was seen coolly sipping beers in the bar area. One guest ranted: "I couldn't believe it! They came late, first of all, and just wandered into the bar area, cool as cucumbers." Another guest burst out, "Well, and who might these two ladies be?" Though this comment was made loud enough for the two newcomers to hear, they "just grinned sneakily at each other and ordered another round of drinks," said another guest.
Mrs. Clothilde Klinkemeier, who checks coats at the Meistersaal where the party was held, admits that at first she resisted taking their coats into her charge: "I knew there was something fishy about those two...showing up so late, and in such ratty coats, though underneath, I guess they were properly dressed for the occasion."
In the end, it was the heroism of Dr. Müller-Oerlinghausen's nephew Matthias (Matt) which saved the evening -- and rescued Berlin's prominence from yet another uninvited appearance this season.
Dr. Müller-Oerlinghausen's nephew, who lectures at the Free University of Berlin and at the Sorbonne in Paris, is a budding poet and literary scholar. "It struck deep in my soul with a certainty straight out of Molière that these two women had to be the Mizzes X. And so, just as Goethe would have done, I subtly approached the blonde, bought her a drink, and engaged her in conversation."
Family members sitting at Mr. Müller-Oerlinghausen's table began to worry when he failed to return after about two hours. The blonde, meanwhile, was whisked off to the dancefloor, while the brunette remained at the table, observing the assembled guests and "holding the fort", as one guest put it.
Dr. Müller-Oerlinghausen's son Jens, who works at McKinsey and Co, just couldn't take it anymore, and finally went in search of his stray cousin. He found him earnestly engaged in conversation with the blonde woman. "I was astounded! Here Matt's gone and disappeared, and then I find him talking to these two random women I've never seen before--well only talking to one, the other stared at their backs and looked bored out of her skull. And there he was telling this woman all about Mr. Keller, our chauffeur and his back problems! I told him he'd better come back to his table pretty darn quick, or my dad would be really peeved, but he just waved me off."
Well, if Mohammed won't come to the mountain, the mountain comes to Mohammed: shortly before midnight, the whole table of under 30's moved to join Matt and the two mystery women. Although the two women, apparently wary of detection, began to make signs of leaving, the troupe of Mr. Müller-Oerlinghausen's younger relatives prevented their escape. Surprised to discover that the brunette could talk after all, they pressed both for details of their identity. Aghast at the thought that two people could just crawl in off the street and crash a party of this caliber, the ballroom hummed with gossip. Speculation that the two mysterious women were secret long-lost daughters of Mr. Müller-Oerlinghausen under an assumed name were fueled by reports that they repeatedly referred to him as Bodo, rather than Bruno.
Dawn began to break. Most of the guests had gone home. Mr. Müller-Oerlingen, evidently satisfied that his party had been a huge success, impulsively gave the two party crashers a dozen meter-long-stemmed roses each. His nephew Matt, joined meanwhile by his cousin Tom, continued their quest undauntedly. "We were dead set on discovering the identity of these women," said Matt. "I mean, there was not just family pride at stake here, but the whole Berlin elite had been terrorized by these women for long enough."
The two women finally broke down under questioning. "We couldn't make head nor tail of what they were saying," said Tom. "They kept babbling about magic music and some friends named Julian and Gage who were getting married this summer."
But finally, the truth was out: They really had just come to hear the band play.