Monday, October 18, 2010

10 Days Ago in Frankfurt

I’ve been trying to set aside 2 hours to write my blogs.  My last couple of stories have been heralded as my best work ever by my blogging instructor.  Notice that it’s my best work ever.  You can say that and it still may barely be bearable.

Anyway, in my desperate attempt to keep the chain of best bloggings going, I’ve been waiting until I have time before actually writing.  I decided today, that this will never happen.

Today was my second day in Paris and I’ve just now decided to write about Frankfurt before I forget what’s left of the portion I remember.  But, I don’t have 2 hours to set aside.  But, without further ado...

A colleague of mine from work picked me up at my lovely hotel at 4 o’clock.  We were to be at another colleague’s house at 5 o’clock for BBQ and beer and who knows what else.

I remember being picked up.  I remember going to the store and buying some red evil feminine looking liquor (sorry for any redundancy).

We’ll call our host Marcel.  I don’t know if it is spelled correctly, but it’s a good name.  I don’t know how to spell his girlfriend’s name, but we’ll call her Andrea. 

We arrived at Marcel’s house and Andrea met me at the door with a friendly face and a mischievous smile.  I already knew Marcel had a bit of a mischievous sense of humor so I knew I was in trouble.  10 seconds in and I was already a little bit nervous.

Marcel offered me a hefeweizen.  If you’ve read my previous posts, you may be seeing an uncommon common denominator.  I drank a liter.

Then Marcel decided I was drinking too much beer and needed to slow down so I’d have room for BBQ.  This sounded like a good plan!  So, he started pouring Cola Lights (Diet Coke to you Americans) and rum.  This was frightening, but they were all younger than me so I had to show no fear lest I become “the old man”.

Sometime during all of this Andrea’s friend showed up.  Andrea was scared her English would not be good enough to keep up (or something) so she invited a friend over who I think could speak English.  But, her friend was more there to keep Andrea company in case “the three guys” went off on some English speaking tangent or something.  I think. 

We should call her friend Natascha.  Natascha was quite attractive and she smiled at all my witty jokes even though she pretended not to speak English.

Finally, we ate.  I remember enjoying the food.  Some good sausages with cheese if I recall correctly.  Once everyone finished eating the evil red bottle was opened and shots were poured.  I don’t know how many shots were poured.  I know at least 2.

I have this mode.  It’s a self defense mechanism.  When I’ve gone beyond the point of witty into the point of obnoxious belligerence, I flip this little switch in my head that makes me quit talking and go into “autopilot”.

When the decision was made that we had spent enough time at the house and it was time to go to Frankfurt.  I had already hit the switch.  I was in full autopilot.

Rumor has it that I walked in straight lines and I didn’t hit anyone, but I didn’t talk much either.

I vaguely remember walking to a cab station and waiting for a cab that could hold 5.

I remember going to an appropriately named rock club called, “The Final Destination”.  I remember someone buying me a Long Island Iced Tea.  I remember thinking about hitting the person.  I remember dancing to some Nine Inch Nails or Marilyn Manson or something.  It was good for me.

I didn’t hit anyone.  Later we went to an Irish bar and this person that ordered me the tea got a drink called, “Cinderella”.  I laughed at him for 20 minutes.  He’s a big guy and I was picturing size 12 glass slippers.

Next day, I found pictures on my phone.  Here they are, in the order that I think I remember…


Cinderella’s on the right.


The beginning of the end.


Sorry about the blur.  But honestly, I don’t know how anyone expected me to take a picture without blur.


Waiting for the first Taxi (I think).


I am kind of embarrassed by this picture.  I don’t remember anyone taking it.  From looking at the picture now, I believe that this is how Cinderella convinced me to drink the Long Island Iced Tea without getting hit.


  1. You are sorta scaring me. But that was good. Again. Long Island Iced Tea Girl looked dangerous.

  2. Thanks again. I learn from the best.

    She looked dangerous, but you can't fault her for that. She was really nice.

  3. I wonder if you could calculate the total proportion of this lil' European extravaganza that's disappeared down the memory hole. Based on your last couple of posts, I'm wondering if you'll remember anything....

  4. That's why I take a camera and write it down.

    And, for the record, I remember 99% of the Marienplatz ordeal. Like I said, I was protecting the guilty.