The other week I was in Hungary having dinner with the customer I was visiting. Several of us were sitting around the table as we waited on a few more colleagues to arrive. We started discussing sports; the three Hungarians I was dining with all enjoy skiing and cycling. They are all friends (which is nice to see in a firm), and tend to take their bike (spring/summer) and ski (winter) trips frequently. The ski season is just coming to an end, so everyone was getting their bikes out in preparation of the season change.
Inevitably, I was asked about my own tastes in sport. One of the guys is a huge fan of women's basketball; he had been following the team for 20 years or so. I found that not only intriguing but also sort of endearing. He apparently hasn't missed many matches since becoming a fan.
As I have had to do several times since living in Europe, I explained that although my childhood gave me plenty of exposure to a lot of different sports(including basketball), both as a spectator and a player, I always preferred soccer. (I almost always say soccer, since everyone assumes initially that I refer to american football when I say football). Hungary is not really known for its prowess (but hell, look where I come from), though they might have a chance to qualify for Euro 2012.
At any rate, I related my tale that I had pretty much only played soccer through most of my playing years, save for an interlude when I played tennis for my college team. I actually laughed out loud when I mentioned tennis, reminded of the absolute absurdity of a 3 year stint on a team where I was an average player at best. I never quite developed my mental game on the court. As a result, matches were quite entertaining, as I could quickly lose control of a match, especially against any opponent who was talented enough to identify the plethora of weaknesses to my game.
Still, I did enjoy the experience, managing to be a decent contributor to the team. My physical ability, particularly my serve, helped to get me noticed. More than once I could snatch a few games off of a better player just because I could blast the serve and accumulate enough aces to momentarily rattle them. Of course, I was a bit of a one trick pony, so as soon as they figured out how to beat me, things tended to go down hill quickly.
Ultimmately, I returned to the pitch soon after college, and while I sort of wish that I had not skipped the opportunity to improve my footballing (while running around on the court), I do think I did make for a decent footballer in the end, though that is a story for another time. (preview - in a seemingly insane moment playing indoor with some guys, a teammate compared me to Bobby Moore. Flattered as I was, I actually asked the teammate if he was on crack...)
We had a couple of palinkas as I finished telling my story, and that more or less rounded out the evening nicely.
A couple of days later, Pablo reminded me that he and I had both always been better doubles players on the court, and I appreciated his analogy, especially since it gave a perspective that I hadn't thought of previously.
As always, I like it when a random comment gives me something to think about. Thoughts of double faults and broken racket strings (and a banner day when I bopped myself in the forehead trying to return someone's serve, resulting in me bleeding all over the tennis court) stayed with me during this past week as I commuted to work each day on the train, sort of mingling with my recent ongoing search to make sure the music doesn't fade completely away.
I greatly enjoy the experience on the train. I tend to hang out in the board bistro, where you can buy a coffee (mornings) or a beer (evenings), do a little work, or read a book. At the rate that I am reading, I am going to have to hit the library a bit more frequently.
There are usually other regular commuters that have the same idea as me, preferring the bistro to trying to fight for a seat in one of the passenger cars. I have never really been one to initiate conversations on the train (or planes, or automobiles, for that matter), and a prime reason (other than my shyness) came up one afternoon as I boarded the train in Düsseldorf. Two other guys who I had seen before sort of jockeying for that place on the train platform that puts you directly in front of the door to the train, thus allowing you to be one of the first to board as soon as the passengers have gotten off. This is a particularly significant thing when you have no seat reservation; being first on means you have a better chance of finding the spot (either in the passenger car in an unoccupied seat or in the bistro where you can get a table) that you want.
Train travel, especially for commuters, can create a bit of overcrowding. Usually you can purchase a ticket and ride any train. This potentially means that you can travel with a lot of people at one time, with more passengers than there are seats on the train. Football weekends are good examples, as are holidays when all the soldiers get a weekend furlough. Thus, there are times when you get on a train, only to find out that travellers (and their bags) are scattered all over: in the aisles, in the foyer, or anywhere where there is a place to lean, stand, or squat.
All the more reason to pick out your preferred spot and try to get situated quickly. It's a bit like musical chairs, and no one likes to suddenly find themselves without a place.
So, when the train arrived in the station, I found myself getting into the bistro just before the other two regular commuters, but as I was just about to put my bag on a little table, one of the guys sort of threw his own bag onto the same spot, more or less beating me to the place.
"Sorry," he said, more or less meaning anything but.
"Macht nichts," I responded, meaning, "you are a fuckhead."
I took the table across from them and opened my book, realizing that it was not worth worrying about. After all, I still had a spot for myself. My irritation came simply from the fact that he easily noticed that there were two spots and could have simply taken the one that I was NOT about to take. Ah well, it really came as no surprise. Most commuters tend to be a bit jumpy at the best of times. Mintues later, after we were en route to the next station, about 10 people all tried to order refreshments from the helpless guy behind the counter, and somehow everyone wanted to be first, as opposed to standing in a queue. I sipped my own beer and continued reading, glad to have a little spot at my table.
While I enjoy the train travel, the one thing that was a bit of a concern is the expense. I own a Bahnkarte which greatly reduces my ticket price, but as I am finding that I will probably not have to travel outside of Germany as much as I initially thought, the expenses of a daily commute to work were adding up quickly. After the debaucle of the shit hotel I stayed in a few weeks ago, I feel more inclined to simply commute each day, so long as the expenses aren't out of control.
I wisely decided to upgrade my Bahnkarte this past week (after riding home with fuckhead and his buddy), and was pleased at the service I got from the Reisezentrum as they helped me get the change application filled out. If it works the way I think it will, I will actually save more money commuting than if I actually stayed away from home during the work week. I was very glad to get this sorted, as it has helped create my little routine.
Later, at home, I lay in bed listening to a little "Night Music," feeling comfortable that at the very least, my work week is starting to get a bit structure, at least as much as can be formed in a job that is never dull, changing from day to day.
So, I entered the holiday weekend still trying to get back on track with the music, as my concerns from the other week had not yet subsided. Fortunately, a few tracks from Richard Butler hit rotation at just the right moment, and things seem to be improving on that front. Thank goodness. Throw in a bit of Joy Division and the Police, and look the fuck out...
After all, sometimes you just have to change the game.
keep the faith
bryan
soundtrack
The Make - Daryl
Into You Like a Train - Psychedelic Furs
Fall On Tears - Love Spit Love
Complete catalog - The Police
Complete catalog - Joy Division
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