The Naivety of Being Ignorant, The Relief of Sanft und Frei Tempo, and Other Drippy Stories

Last Saturday morning I woke up feeling like I had swallowed a cup or two of dust.  It was as if all the dust bunnies under my bed all ventured out of their warren and into my mouth during the night.  My epiglottis seemed to have quadrupled in size, and I spent the first hour or two of the morning having a few cups of coffee and trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

I have been known to snore from time to time, and after a night of heavy snoring, I have had a similar feeling, but when I suddenly started sneezing later on that morning, I was not only irritated, but confused.  Once, in college, while I was at a friend's house, some girl decided to get cute, and as we were all hanging out on the porch, she decided to try out a can of mace (or some other self-defense spray), and inadvertently sent a burst in my general direction.  Due to the direction of the wind, I caught it more or less directly in the face, and spent the next half an hour sneezing nonstop. 

Obviously it took me a bit of time before I found that particular incident amusing, but at least I knew why I was sneezing.

By lunchtime on Saturday, I was not feeling particularly amused, either, but apart from the sneezes, I was physically feeling fine.  That said, I sat curiously around the house and skipped my trip to the gym, believing that I would not be able to get through a workout.   I did, however, skype with my parents and my mother asked if I had a cold.  Nope.

Sunday, the congestion and the sneezing continued, but I was determined to get to the gym and also watch the Arsenal match.  During the afternoon match, I did have to blow my nose a few times, but otherwise felt okay. 

Monday morning I woke up extra early, as I had to travel by train to a city several hours away.  We had a meeting scheduled at 10am with the new president of our company.  Though I usually work out of  my home, I technically belong to that particular office location, so it was important that I be there to meet our new leader.

Armed with loads of tissues, I took the train at 5.45am, and two hours later my colleague picked me up at the station, and we drove another hour to our office.  Thankfully, the sneezing episodes had mostly subsided.  We arrived about 9.30, and I made the rounds to greet some of the colleagues that I do not see too often.  After a couple of  my attempts at making myself a coffee from the automated machine resulted in foamy milk spilling onto the counter, someone showed me how to properly use the machine, and I celebrated by taking my coffee downstairs and went outside for a cigarette. 

I narrowly avoided getting hit by someone on a bicycle, then found that I was locked out of the entrance to the building, as one needs an access badge.  I sheepishly pressed the button and explained to the receptionist that yes, I had just arrived 15 minutes ago, but yes, I had already managed to lock myself out of the building.  She buzzed me back in, and was waiting for me at the top of the stairs with a guest badge. 

No sooner had I settled myself at a spare desk when suddenly the floodgates opened, and my nose started running, and continued to run for the rest of the day. 

We all gathered in the conference room to meet our new president, and after that meeting I had a 30 minute conversation with my boss.  The whole time I held a kleenex to my nose. 

Monday was certainly turning out to be a lousy day, and while I was not too concerned about the fact that I had used up most of tissue supply already (as there was a little drugstore across the way from the office where I could buy more), I was extremely irritated by the disruption.  Every once in awhile, I needed to sneeze, but other than that, no aches, pains, or any feeling of having fever.   Was I experiencing severe allergies?  How many packets of tissue would I have to use during the 4 hour trip home?  Would my nose ever stop running?  How many of the train passengers would be annoyed that they were sitting next to a sneezy, drippy guy?

The answers to these questions came around 8pm that night, when I returned to Frankfurt:  No, fuckloads, no, and fuckloads.

I woke up Tuesday morning with a runny nose, not surprisingly.  I still felt physically fit, and was rather relieved that I could stay at home for the day.  The work day was semi-productive, and during a break I headed to the store to pick up new supplies of tissues.  When using the first tissue out of the pack, I found myself in the new position of having a stopped up ear.  Neat.

At 6pm that evening, I logged off my work laptop, made myself some dinner, and figured it best to go to bed very early.  My grandmother skyped me and we caught up briefly, but after a few minutes, I told her that I was a bit unwell and needed to ring off.  I then immediately went to bed and stayed there for the next 12 hours, getting up each hour trying to clear my nose.

Wednesday morning brought me the realization that this was a cold, and not some bit of allergy.  I was congested, which brought only the comfort that my nose was no longer running as freely as it had the previous 2 days.  Unfortunately, I needed to travel by train that afternoon, and meet with a supplier (and our new president) on Thursday.

For a few hours I debated whether or not I should simply cancel the trip, but ultimately decided to catch an early afternoon train, which got me to the little town where my supplier is located shortly before 6pm.  I checked into my little hotel and actually was feeling pretty good, save for the congestion (which now had noticeable impact on how my voice sounded) and the redness that my nose showed due to the 50,000 tissues I had used in the past days. 

Wednesday evening was a big Champ's League night for me:  Arsenal vs Bayern.  Part of me was glad not to be in Frankfurt watching the match at my local, but truth be told, had I had been in Frankfurt, I probably would have stayed in, anyway.  But, because of Thursday's visit to the supplier with our new executive, I knew it was important to try and make an impression; too many beers because of celebrating victory or commiserating loss might not go over so well Thursday morning, and the cold I was suffering would certainly not be helped either way.

In the end, I watched most of the match in the hotel restaurant, and despite the fact that my team lost, I went to bed knowing that we had not played that badly. 

During the night, I must have had a bit of fever, but it did me some good.  I woke up Thursday feeling ready for the day.  Everyone would simply have to deal with my congested voice, but at least I was no longer drippy. 

The supplier visit went ok, but I was glad when it was time to catch the train home.  I was looking forward to one more day of working quietly from home, then the weekend.  The train connections were all punctual, and as I found a seat in the bordbistro on my final transfer out of Cologne, I was almost delighted when four attractive girls sat in the same vicinity, and even more delighted that they were all Spanish. 

I am certainly no head turner, and with a crusty red nose and voice affected by my cold, I was somewhat relieved that they ignored me and chatted amongst themselves.  Meanwhile, I read my book and enjoyed a beer.  During the 75 minute journey, there was a moment where I almost had to jump in and assist with the communication:  once when the conductor came to check the tickets, and once when the guy in the restaurant car was taking drink orders.  However, I did not feel so inclined to break out my spanish on the grounds that I did not want to find out how my voice sounded speaking spanish with a guiri accent and a cold.  Fortunately, everything worked out without me having to say a word. 

As we pulled into Frankfurt station and prepared to exit the train, I murmured "cuidado" to one of the girls (the cute brunette wearing the mini-skirt and the DMs) as she put her coat on; she had not realized that her purse strap was hooked onto arm of the seat.  She smiled a thanks, and then, as usual, bupkis.  I headed for the U-Bahn, and the girls headed off to wherever they were headed.

I threw my bags upstairs and headed to the pub for a couple of beers, though I was probably pushing my luck.  I was only just feeling that I was over the worst of my cold, but I was relieved enough that the weekend was close that I figured it was worth the risk.

Having stayed in for most of the week, I greeted a few friends that I hadn't seen, and we talked about the incidents of my week:  the confusion over what ailment I was suffering from, the fact that my voice sounded like shit, why our new president spoke to me in English despite the fact that our meeting had been conducted in German the whole day, and at what point does someone suffering from a cold's ear become unblocked.

It certainly was not a late night, and I woke up feeling rested Friday morning and celebrated the start of the weekend with a couple of pints later that evening.  Despite feeling better each day, I have not completely recovered, thus spent most of the weekend lying low and catching up on a few films. 

The goal for this upcoming week is to avoid any relapse and wait for my ear to become unstopped.  I just realized that the stereo volume has been on louder than normal, and while there was a little Carter USM in my music mix this week, most of what I have been listening to has been a continuation of the electronic body music stuff, and that tends to have a bit of a darker, heavier edge to it.  Sure, it needs to be listened to at a louder volume, but perhaps not at a volume that has been compensated for my decreased hearing. 

My neighbors are already a bit annoyed by the fact that the trashbin in back of our apartment is overflowing with my used tissues.  Now is not the time to aggravate them further with a noise disturbance.

At least not until my ear becomes unblocked.

see you out there
bryan

Hunting Heads in a Mild Winter

Every week I seem to get an email or text from my mother or someone else stateside telling me just how cold it is this winter, and that is just in Texas.  Likewise, I have lost count of the number of reports I have seen where another storm hits the Northeast or the upper Midwest.

Meanwhile, here in Germany, it continues to be very mild.  OK, you still need a coat most days, and a couple of weeks ago I actually bought woolen socks for the very first time in my life.  I didn't buy them on a whim, really.  Instead, I happened to be doing some other shopping on a day when my feet were particularly cold, saw the socks, and thought, "why the hell not?"

I felt a bit silly the following day when the temperature got up almost to 11 degrees Celsius, but I have actually worn the socks on cooler days a few times since and been rather pleased (and cozy).  I do not consider myself to be a wimp when it comes to tolerating cold weather, but I admit that after several years of living in a colder climate my body has acclimated.  No longer do I run off to the grocery store in a sweatshirt and shorts on a chilly Saturday afternoon, frankly because it's, erm, cold.

 Similar to the weather in my hometown, here in Frankfurt it can be sunny and pleasant one minute, and suddenly the temperature plummets and you are freezing your tail off.  Thus, it makes sense to do the "layered" approach:  piling on a a couple of shirts, a sweater, a jacket and a coat when it is cold, and when you are uncomfortable, just take another layer off.  It used to really annoy me when going out to restaurants or pubs or shows, etc, because it always takes everyone a few minutes to unwrap after entering an establishment where the heating happens to be on full blast. However, I  eventually stopped saying anything once I realized that I was actually doing the same thing. 

I do smile from time to time when I see the little lost and found boxes that tend to be in a lot of places for those inevitable moments when someone leaves a scarf, a glove, or even a sweater behind before going out into the cold.  This becomes even more comical at the end of a night in a crowded pub, when everyone is trying to find their coat and other articles.  The scene is not that far different from the end of a normal school day at kindergarten or first grade, when all the kids troop off to the cloakroom to get ready to go home, scrambling to find their hat and mittens, and always forgetting something.

The other night, I met a few friends for dinner, and upon entering the restaurant, I took off my jacket, feeling comfortable enough in my long sleeve shirt and sweater.  After dinner, we had a quick schnapps before I headed off to to a concert at a local venue just a few U-Bahn stops away.

I deliberately skipped the opening act, and as I approached the club entrance and saw the numbers of smokers standing outside, I knew that my timing was good.  I grabbed a couple of beers and headed into the concert hall to find a place to stand.  Though full, it was not so unbearably packed.  I actually found a spot with a good view of the stage, and about 2 minutes later, Front 242 walked on stage a launched right into their set.

More than once on this blog I have acknowledged that my concert going experiences have dramatically reduced over the years, much to my annoyance.  So, when I don't have any previous engagements or work travel to get in my way and basically do get my act together to actually get to a show, I tend to enjoy it thoroughly, particularly if it involves a group I have not seen before.

EBM has always had a pretty big influence on me, despite the fact that I never really was a huge fan of clubbing, and furthermore, I can't actually remember all that many electronica concerts.  I can remember NOT being allowed to go to Front 242 back in Dallas in 1987, and how many more times they ever played in Texas, or the US, for that matter, i can only guess. Though I have always continued to listen to the heavy industrial stuff, I have not followed the scene all that closely. 

But none of that matters when you are actually at the show, enjoying the beat, and just taking it for what it's worth.  In this case, everyone at the show seemed to be about my age, and while we all can probably admit that we have aged a wee bit since 242 first came on the scene, things just seemed right.  I certainly didn't feel over the hill, not by any stretch.

Before I knew it, they were playing their encore, and then the lights came up, and the crowd exited the hall.  I met a few friends at the show, and, as none of us had checked our coats, we were able to just bypass the long line of folks waiting to get their jackets and head right outside and down the street to wait for the next U-Bahn, along with other concert-goers.

As we boarded the train, I heard someone behind me exclaim, "Shit, I left my scarf in the club!"

I zipped up my own jacket and smiled.  It never stops.

Stay warm.