Wednesday, June 8, 2011


Some days you need champagne.  The fucker would only serve me the little bottle.  I asked him twice for the big one, thinking he just didn't understand; he cut-me-off before I sat down.  Innocently enough, I had come to Munich for beer houses; I found one.  I found it distasteful, essentially after the daytime crowds, they're just nightclubs.  My search turned on a dime and I was asking some Metalheads in front of RAM, a Metal bar, where to find a corner store.  I wanted tobacco, snuff in particular; snuff is not chew, in Germany snuff is blown up the nose like cocaine.  It enters the blood through the nasal passage and burns like a motherfucker.  My search took longer than I wanted due to bad directions.  When I got back to the Metal bar – because these were my kind of people – I found out the directions were useless because they thought I said Porn store.  We had a good laugh and a round of snuff – both nostrils, you have to stay balanced.  I go into the bar an order a whiskey, cheap.  They don't have "well" drinks in Europe, if you want the cheap stuff you have to specify, American bar culture is more evolved.  He pours me a double, no ice.  When I order another he suggests Schnapps.  I tell him I hate Schnapps' peppermint flavor.  Apparently that's an American thing, this is straight Schnapps, and it’s pure.  Later, he pours another type that was spicy.

I notice the couple sitting at the corner of the bar gesturing at their hot blonde friend to talk to me.  We're sitting next to each other and had been casually bumping one another.  I initiate; she reciprocates.  After a while she says her English is poor and she wishes she could express herself fully to me.  She desires a deeper conversation than small talk.  I ask her for examples; art, history, culture, politics, Metal.  I love her.  I tell her to just speak to me in German.  She does, passionately.  Occasionally her voice rises, speaking in a rush, she leans in, and I’m beaming.  Afterward, I feel like smoking a cigarette.  She is fixed on me and no one else in the room.  I ask if in anything she said; if it may have involved kissing me.  She says no, coyly.  Another round of Schnapps; the bartender is encouraging me, appreciating the fanny pack traveler.  He pours tall drinks, many free.  This isn't one of those measure-your-shots-out establishments.  Metal has been blaring over the noise of the bar room the entire time.  I love Metal; so does she.  It gets to the point between us when she talks about my impermanence, my transience, my leaving.  I tell her plainly (sadly it likely came off like a rehearsed line) that I'm searching for something, perhaps something to make me stay, perhaps someone.  She blushes but still sees it as a line, my hook, yet it wasn't.  I'm in love with this Metal goddess.

The liquor and beer make everything else obscure.  I time travel to 5:00 AM; I'm asleep on the street again.  I hoof-it to my Hostel and sleep until 3 o’clock; luckily they didn't kick me out.  I paid for the bed; at least I used some of it.  This brings me to the champagne.  I like to think that we had kissed passionately, spoke of our future together, and laid on a blanket on a grassy hill.  More likely, I just threw up on myself and she left; it’s impossible to say.  Something happened, but time travelling is a bitch, especially when you want to know what happened to the one.  My head is pounding; my body is covered in weight that makes everything an effort.  I sweat in the Bavarian heat.  I drink champagne.

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