Whew! Once again, I've gone the past few days spending a little too much time with a beer in hand and not enough time sleeping.
Last Thursday, the day after English FA Cup Round 4 Day, I had good intentions of going home from work, going to the gym, catching up on a bit of sleep, or whatever.
Almost immediately after I put up the post, my work day went to hell. Thus, by the close of business, I was in no great mood to do diddly squat. In fact, I was feeling a bit agitated with just about all facets in my life. Kind of a surprising change: a 180, if you will, from my jubilance from the morning.
The bus on Thursday evening was late, which caused me to miss the train back to Frankfurt. I had to wait an extra half hour, which didn't really help matters.
I arrived home, and thought I'd just settle for a quick trip to the grocery store, but my feet carried me not down the street to the market, but instead next door for a quick beer and a hopeful mood change. (note - I'm not saying that alcohol should be used solely for helping my mood, but it was one of those days where a beer was needed, and there was none in the house.)
Inside the pub were a respectable group of people enjoying a Thursday evening, along with two new friends of mine, Stefan and Sonja. No I did not pick these people because of their names. Stefan is the newbie to Frankfurt, and Sonja is a girl I've been hanging out with recently. Since I had invited Sonja to dinner that evening and had been politely turned down on account that some rest was needed, I was a bit surprised to see her sitting at the bar.
Initially, this didn't help my mood, but I quickly discovered that all of us had had a rather crap work day. Sonja was there to pick up some extra tickets to a concert that we were going to the following evening, and having the obligatory beer that goes along with that. (2nd note - Say for example you leave your credit card at the bar you were at the night before. When you go to that bar the next afternoon to pick up your card, it's quite polite to stay for a quick beer. After all, you're the one that forgot your card in the first place. OK, at least that's my rationale.)
Well, Stefan was finishing up a bit of dinner, and I swallowed two pints a little too easily. As I calmed down, my mood improved, and the long and short of it was that I ended up staying at the pub for the rest of the evening, electing for a dinner of pils. Sonja sort of did the same thing, and looking back, I think Stefan might have been the only one who ate dinner that night, and he later claimed that he wished he hadn't.
The place got pretty jumpin' as we reached midnight, and I found myself talking to a guy named Ziggy who was impressed that I was trying to speak German. He bought a couple of unneeded rounds of drinks, but it was nice to meet him all the same.
Sonja ended up a little worse for wear, and I came to my senses enough to get her home safely and into her apartment before trucking off home for a little sleep of my own.
Friday came all too early, and before I even got to work, I was worried about the next 24 hours. Sonja and I had plans to go see a show at a local club, which pretty much indicated a long night. I was concerned about just when I might be able to catch up on rest.
Friday was a marginally better day at work, and I managed to get out of the office 30 minutes early, meaning I only worked 10 1/2 hours instead of 11. I spent the commute home talking to a couple of colleagues that were leaving for a weeks' vacation, then texted Sonja to confirm the meeting time. 7.45pm.
Sonja had had a reasonably OK day at work herself, but had the same need for a couple of advil. We U-Bahned to Konstablerwache, where we met a friend of hers named Danielle. The three of us then walked a short distance to a club called Sinkkasten. The night's bill: four bands, including the one that our barman sings for.
The club isn't huge, but it was starting to fill up with a pretty young crowd. None of the three of us are pushing retirement by any means, but we've all felt that moment when it just seems that everyone present must have homework to do or something. We made a few jokes about the age of the people piling into the club, then settled in for a few beers at the bar. Another friend of Sonja's was to meet us there a bit later.
The first band was a little punk-pop trio that wasn't all that bad. Not quite polished enough to be putting out EPs or anything just yet, but able to draw some crowd support. I enjoyed a second beer and just relaxed. My buddy Goran arrived and said that his band would be playing last, another three hours to go.
Had I known this, I might have arrived at the club a bit later myself. That said, I was enjoying the company, and really had no complaints. Sonja's other friend arrived, and after the introductions, the first band finished their set and exited the stage.
Leaving Danielle to hang at the bar, the three of us left the club in search of a quick bite to eat. I'd had a little pasta at home, but, considering that I hadn't eaten anything since Thursday am, was not about to lose an opportunity to put something else in the tummy.
Pizza Hut on the plaza was the ultimate decision, and we ate our slices on the way back to the club, where we found the second punk-pop band finishing up their set. More polished than the first band, but not quite as enjoyable.
The club was pretty full by this time, and we elected to move closer to the floor in front of the stage so as to get a better view. Unfortunately, the next act happened to be complete shite.
I've never gone in for the really heavy headbanging music, especially when there are no lyrics being sung. This band, whose name I can unfortunately not recall (unfortunate because I want to avoid their future shows) certainly had ability, kind of along the lines of GWAR, Metallica, and possibly Korn (albeit with less industrial sound). Of those three bands, I can only tolerate Metallica, and normally only the slower more melodic tunes. Only just.
Yes, I like hard, fast, thrashing stuff. But, I like to hear someone sing. This band had a frontman who basically just yelled in the microphone for 45 minutes and encouraged the crowd to slam dance. In fairness, the band had a sizable following of youth, but none of my group cared much for their show. Furthermore, it didn't really fit with the night's bill.
The band were popular enough to have two encores, during one they announced that they were celebrating 10 years together as a band. This prompted Sonja to ask if that meant that they started their band when they were 6 years old; the crowd was that young.
We were certainly pleased when the band finished. Next up: a band called Simonout.
The lead singer Goran works in the local pub, and was one of the first persons I met when arriving to Frankfurt. Since our meeting, we've regularly talked about music, his group, etc.
I missed a show of his a couple of weeks back, so was kind of excited about this one. I'd heard a few positive things from some other folks, and on top of that, it was to be my very first show in Frankfurt. Groovy.
I had a brief word with Goran before he went back stage, then grabbed a fresh beer and moved to a good spot near the stage.
The band started out with a little opening ditty that immediately grabbed my attention. They continued with a pretty decent intensity that impressed me, then Goran took stage, and took over.
Part Queen, part Robbie Williams, throw in a little Marion and various other BritPop stuff from the 90s, the Red Hot Chili Peppers, half a glass of SKA, and 4 extra pints of originality, and you've just seen Simonout.
I'm not normally the kind of guy that gets worked up by a bands singer, but Goran certainly has ability. The band itself is extremely tight, and most impressive and diverse.Along with the rest of the crowd, I was dancing about, enjoying the scene. Sonja enjoys dancing, and was working her own groove, as were the other two girls.
The set came to an end after 45 minutes. A bit short, but apparently the way things had to be.
However, the club then played a nice selection of punk, industrial, ska, and heavy rock that we continued to dance to, pausing only long enough to grab more beers every few minutes.
Goran came out from backstage and we enthusiastically talked about the success of the show. Goran was right pleased to know that I’d enjoyed it so much, and I was flattered that my opinion mattered so much to him.
Long after the carriage turned back into a pumpkin, Sonja began showing signs that it was time for the trek home. By this time, it was past three, and again, I remembered (somewhat fuzzily) that sleep had been a luxury in recent days.
We grabbed a taxi back home, and I walked back to Sonja’s, where she discovered that her keys, handy, and metro card were all safely in the purse of Sennay, who had gone back to her place in Sachsenhausen.
By this point, Sonja needed to be in bed, but here we were on the street. Several rings to her doorbell in hopes that her roommate would wake up and open the door proved unsuccessful. Quite the dilemma.
In the end, I decided that we’d camp at my place, allowing for the drunkenness to wear off. We’d sort out things in the morning.
My flat has a sofa bed, and I’ve now officially had company at my apartment.
We got up around mid morning, and Sonja tried several times to phone her roommate, with no luck. I made a few rounds of coffees, and we contemplated our next moves. Sonja concluded that her roommate must have stayed over at his girlfriend’s, and his mobile number was loaded into her own phone, which was, I’ll remind you, safely with a friend somewhere else in the city.
So, we spent a couple of hours having coffee. I cleaned up the kitchen, took a shower, talked her into a shower, and then we headed to the pub where I was planning to watch Arsenal play their 5th round FA cup match.
True, I was actually enjoying the company, but obviously she was feeling a bit unsettled in the fact that she couldn’t get into her apartment. I don’t have a phonebook, so we used the one from the pub, got numbers, and left several messages for her two friends from the night before.
I watched the game, had a fry up, and would have been a lot happier had the match not ended in a really boring draw.
Meanwhile, Sonja found her roommate, changed clothes in her own apartment, then went off to find her friend, who was still holding the house keys, mobile, and U-Bahn pass. I elected to head home for a little nap and a trip to the gym.
I've not managed to get into the gym all that much during the week, but have gone out of my way to work out pretty hard on Saturdays and Sundays. Hopefully I can find time to get in a few more times during the week, but at least I'm not missing workouts completely.
I was on my way home around from the fitness center around 7.45 when Sonja texted me and suggested that we meet for a drink or two.
Again, all caution was thrown into the wind, and at 8pm I find myself settling in for a few pints on a Saturday night. The pub was having a Faschings Party; Carnival and Mardi Gras are celebrated all over the world, you know. This particular night, a DJ was scheduled to spin records from 10pm on.
The landlord and her partner, Katja and Noel, were celebrating the Christening of their baby boy, so the families were all out in force, having dinner and a few drinks. Noel is Irish, and from time to time has an Irish session in the pub where he and a few guys get out the guitars, mandolins and banjos and just jam. It more than makes up for the karaoke nights.
From 9 to 10.30, Noel and company played some lively tunes. The DJ set up his tables and more and more people started to show up.
For those of you who have seen and appreciated the movie Love Actually, you might recall the DJ that played at the wedding. He was crap.
The DJ at my pub on Saturday night was worse.
I'm sure my expectations should have been set lower, but for the life of me I cannot see where a John Denver tune has ANY business being a part of the party mix. I mean, come on.
On top of the sappy American songs that apparently a lot of Germans do like to hear, the DJ also fit in a few rousing German national anthems: the kinds of songs that all generations know but refuse to admit they like until they've had 8 beers apiece and are singing at the tops of their lungs.
You might have thought I would have left in disgust, but no, not me. At 2am I was still there, clinging to the hope that the "next" song would be better.
My buddy Stefan once said, "My body is not communicating with my brain," and at 3.30am, this was me to a T. I did manage to pay the bill, and managed to trek the short distance back to my house. I kind of wish that I had followed Sonja's lead and consumed a few pints of juice instead of beers; she was in excellent condition (though her recent form from the previous few nights might have been questionable).
Sunday was a slow day, thank goodness. I caught a few films on television, had a few coffees, then popped off to the gym late afternoon for a surprisingly good workout. I'm refusing to consider it a really bad sign that I can go out 5 nights on the trot and still manage a workout intensive enough for a 20 something, but let's just say that I'm going to use a bit more caution in future.
So, I made it through Monday pretty well, and bought a couple of German coursebooks last night in a zippy bookstore called Hugendubel. The name alone makes me want to shop there a lot, but it's a pretty great bookstore, along the lines of FNAC or something. I'm a bit embarrassed that I sent out a plea for a German book to be sent from the states, as I discovered that the store had two copies on the shelf. Ah well, the stateside one will be more special.
Tonight: the return of Champions League, and Arsenal away to PSV Eindhoven. Arsenal have done well against PSV in the past, but I'm having that nervous feeling, and still have a couple of hours of work ahead of me.
But, as I've mentioned before, I'll just grab a couple of pints and cheer on the team. Worse case scenario, I'll be hung over on Wednesday and feel like crap. Hmmm, Arsenal matches, bad DJs, dancing girls, and a whole lot of pils. Can't help but feel like a teen age spirit.
Bryan out.
soundtrack
The Smiths - Hang the DJ
Simonout - On Fire (http://www.simonout.com/)
The Wonderstuff - On the Ropes (yes, I'm aware that this song comes from an album with "idiot" in the title)
Alphaville - Forever Young
No comments:
Post a Comment