"Let's go to the San Francisco Rose. The burgers are great, and they serve something called a Toolbox, which is a super drink."
The year was 1989 or 1990, and Chris and I were out looking for something to eat.
Indeed, the burgers were quite tasty, but I was particularly thrilled to be drinking my first alcoholic beverage in a restaurant. This was a huge deal for me, as I was still a couple of years away from actually being of legal age. It was not so much that I was so interested in drinking, but rather the actual idea that I could drink a beer in public. I guess it may have been a coming of age thing.
Those early days are bit fuzzy. I did return on a few occasions, and somewhat memorably (and just a tad foolishly) I returned there to celebrate my 21st birthday, when I was actually turning of legal age. I remember trying somewhat feebly to explain that that particular evening was actually my 22nd, no, 23rd birthday. Of course the staff knew, and of course, back then it was not that big of a deal to be drinking under age in various establishments.
Once I was 21, though, I made the Rose my local haunt. I was still in college, but I regularly brought more and more school friends by for burgers and beers. We had started driving into Dallas for the odd rock show, which almost always included a stop for dinner before hitting the club. The "We" was usually Bill and I. I had gotten to know Bill during a school trip to Ireland, during which time we developed a taste for a nice whiskey. Once I introduced him to the Toolbox (complete with the story of my first ever trip to the Rose), he also became quite the fan.
The Rose's Toolbox was a mixed drink somewhat on the strong side: equal portions Vodka, Kahlua, Bailey's, and cream. On ice. Refreshing, tasty, and it was pretty much my choice drink at the place.
By the time I graduated from college, Tim had also become a fan of the Rose. The summer of 1992 was all about playing pool at the Royal Rack most afternoons, and otherwise we spent hours and hours sitting on the patio at the Rose, contemplating our futures. The patio was easily one of the best in the city, and Tim and I both agreed that it was time well spent. We could relax and escape the scary thought of actually having to go look for a job and begin our careers.
By the end of that summer, my father finally lost his patience with me and gave me some very strong encouragement to go find a job, and be quick about it.
That actually turned out to be excellent advice, as my consumption of Toolboxes was impressively (and frighteningly) high. It was time to enter the real world.
Tim left town for a few months, but returned within half a year. Suddenly, we were both gainfully (if not embarrassingly...viva the Shack and viva the Hut!) employed, and Tim had an apartment not too far from, where else?
I had continued to be a frequent patron of the Rose during Tim's hiatus, and once he was back in town, we would be there multiple nights throughout the week. Because it was a neighborhood bar, there were a lot of regulars, many of which we got to know. One evening during a college basketball tournament, the place was hopping. One of the games was being shown on one of the television screens, and one guy made a buzzer shot that was so incredible that about half the guests stood up and cheered. The funny thing was, no one was really there to watch the game. It was just one of the moments when everyone glanced at the TV at the exact moment the guy made the shot. Great memory.
Some of the regulars were quite a few years older than we were. At least, that's how it seemed to me at the time. Then again, when you are 20-something, anyone older than you are is simply old. One of them was never short of wisecracks; he was a really funny guy. To get to the bathrooms, you had to sort of go down a dark hallway which was a bit cramped and had a sharp corner. Right at that corner, there used to be a little newspaper dispenser (remember those?) holding the Dallas Observer. During the more quiet afternoons, you almost always heard someone bump into the thing, and it made a very recognizable sound.
"Watch that first step. It's a doozy," the guy would call out. I think I laughed out loud EVERY time he said that. Of course, when it was my turn, despite my best efforts, I invariably bumped into it myself. This wasn't of great surprise, especially after six toolboxes. And for those that have heard me utter a similar statement out and about in Frankfurt or wherever, now you know where I got the line from.
Along with getting to know the other regulars, Tim and I really got to know the staff, and this is probably where my attraction to waitstaff really took off. In fairness, we were just socializing and being friendly. It certainly helped that most of the staff were the same age as we were, but we were (and still are) nice people. I think neither Tim nor myself, however, expected to start dating any them. Although I dated a couple of the girls, Tim actually got himself into a relationship, which continued for quite some time. This created some interesting stories, which I will save for another time. Overall, it was just a wacky time of life.
Meanwhile, I continued to take just about every girl I went out with to the Rose. The patio was just brilliant, and umpteen toolboxes always hit the spot. And yes, for a time, it seemed my love life (as remarkably inactive as it was) revolved around a Rose and a toolbox. Hmmm.
Alas, we reached a point where it was time to find a new watering hole, and about that time I started spending a lot more time at the Dubliner, which became my new local until I moved to Boston.
Upon my return to Dallas after two years, things had changed, probably for the better. Tim had moved to Austin and was happily settled, and I found myself back in a city that I had to get to know again. This meant finding a new local, but those stories from the Monk will be shared at another time.
By chance, I ran into an old friend of mine from church. He had played in a few bands when we were in high school, and had continued his aspirations to perform his music throughout the 90s. He mentioned that he was tending bar at none other than the San Francisco Rose, and I should drop by and see him. (Hey, I drank my first toolbox there!)
I took him up on his offer and went by the Rose for old times' sake. Like many places, they were experimenting with new attractions, and Dave told me that he was going to be playing a few sets of his own material. Always one to support local talent, I made a point of going to the Rose every time he played, bringing along any friends who were up for the outing. Dave was playing at a few other local venues as well, and I made sure to catch any show that I could.
Dave did not work that long at the bar, but for however brief that time was, it was nice to be back in the old Rose.
I did not make it back to the Rose again until around 2008, when I arranged to meet Tim, along with his wife and young son there during a stateside visit. My own young nephew was also in town, along with his folks, and we spent a nice Saturday afternoon catching up and watching the boys play together. The burgers were still great, and I took the opportunity to have another toolbox.
Of course, living in another country limits my visits to a lot of places I like in Dallas, but when I have been back to visit, the Rose hasn't been on the list, mainly since it wasn't ever really the same going there without Tim all those years ago.
So, the last time I did see Tim in Dallas, which was about 3 years ago, we made the decision to head to the Rose. Sadly, with the exception of two people sitting at the bar, obviously friends of the bartender, the place was completely empty. Since it was summer, we sat outside, which was only slightly less dreary than inside. The food was OK, and I did have one last toolbox, and of course, the company was fine. I think I probably realized then that it would be unlikely I would return to the place. The memories I have from there are great, but the place was no longer MY neighborhood bar. At the time, it did not look like it was anyone's neighborhood bar any longer. Despite that, I hoped that the little place would continue, though I had some doubts.
I celebrated the start of 2017 in Dallas; I had spent Christmas there, as I have in recent years. My parents, nephew and I went to brunch at a restaurant right next door to the San Francisco Rose. As we walked outside after eating, I went over and stood outside the patio of my old haunt. I explained to my nephew that I had spent many many wonderful hours hanging out there years before. He listened politely, but I don't think he was particularly enthralled. I couldn't blame him, as the place was almost as empty as it was when I was last there.
Sigh.
This morning, I woke up to find an email from Moe with a link to a brief article from a Dallas neighborhood rag: the San Francisco Rose, after 40 years, will soon be closing.
So, another of my old haunts is shutting down, but that is just how it is. Those times were great, and will always stay with me.
Chris sent me a text early this week, commenting about an enjoyable quiet night he'd had at the Monk. It was another reminder of other good times. I think it is great that I seem to associate periods of my life with the places I frequent. The Deep Ellum days, or the Dubliner times, or the Old Monk era...all of them have tremendous significance for me.
As for the San Francisco Rose years, I will simply smile and say thanks.
see you out there
bryan
Friday, October 20, 2017
Tuesday, October 17, 2017
Domesitc Appliances and DHL Deliveries - Just Another Online Order
I don't know what baffles me more: the delivery habits of the guys who drive for logistics carriers or my own tendency to misunderstand basic kitchen appliances.
For years, I have worked in the repair logistics industry, and the frequency of delivery incidents has always amazed me. All too often, it seems that the incidents could have been avoided simply by confirming the address. I have resolved countless situations where a package could not be delivered because the customer was not at home. Upon speaking with the client, I would find out that the customer had given their home address despite knowing that they would not actually be at home when the package was to be delivered. "Oh, I work during that day, so was not at home," is something I have heard repeatedly. "Can the package be routed to my office?"
"Of course," I would always respond. "Any reason you didn't specify that address when arranging the service?"
This works in both directions, of course. Just last week, I had a particularly difficult situation where a customer had sent their mobile device into the repair center for service, but somehow the wrong contact name was listed on the waybill. As a result, despite the fact that the delivery location was an actual repair center, the small package was put on the desk of some guy who happened to be on holiday. Two weeks later, he returned to find a package on his desk, and he immediately gave the unit to the repair area. Unfortunately, the two week delay caused great dissatisfaction to the customer, and understandably so.
Last year, the company I work for took over the management of the mobile phone repair network for a billion dollar company. During the first months of our involvement, I handled several cases where naive customers (and rather poorly trained customer care centers) sent their expensive mobile device simply to the address of the company headquarters, where the package would effectively go into a black hole and never reach the place it should have.
In my own personal life, I always take care to make absolutely sure I am specifying the address that I want a package delivered to. I make my share of online orders, and really appreciate the requirement that I confirm, then re-confirm the shipping address before my order is finalized.
So, last Thursday morning when the switch on my electric kettle finally broke, I jumped online and placed an order for a replacement Wasserkocher. At the check out screen I confirmed my address, and looked forward to receiving it in the next day or two. Normally, the order confirmation gives a target date for when the package will be delivered, and when I received my per-alert that the order had been sent, I knew to expect delivery sometime on Saturday.
I really only had one task to do on Saturday, which was to do the shopping. I figured I would putter around the flat during the morning, at least until the delivery guy showed up, then go to the store.
By early afternoon, I decided to take a chance and dash down the street to the store; I was tired of waiting and really wanted to avoid the late-afternoon shopping rush. I would just have to risk missing the arrival of the delivery guy.
As I stepped out of my front door, I checked my mailbox, and found a "Sorry we missed you!" delivery notice. The notice went on to inform me that my package had been left at the house two doors down from me. I was rather surprised and irritated. I had been home the whole morning, as had several other neighbors who live not only in my building, but also the building right next door.
The bell never rang, and I suspect it is because the delivery driver never bothered to press the bell.
Many years ago, I did have the unfortunate issue where my doorbell was not functioning, but I never knew this. At the time (much the way it is now), I was not receiving a lot of visitors, so it took me longer to realize that there had been a problem. However, that was a long time back, so there really was no excuse this time. After all, I know perfectly well that my doorbell is in working order.
The thing was, I had ordered two items on Thursday, and this meant that there would actually be two deliveries. Therefore, I still needed to be quick at the store, so that I could return home and plant myself at the window overlooking the street to make sure that the next driver didn't try and pull the same stunt and simply put a notice in my mailbox instead of attempting to deliver the package. I took my notice with me, and after making my quick shopping trip, I intended to stop off at the house two doors down so as to collect my first package.
My shopping trips are always pretty short, and I was fortunate to have been in the shortest check-out line, so 15 minutes later I was about half a block from my house when I saw a guy carrying two packages. He looked a lot like guy intent on making a delivery, and sure enough, I could see that he was approaching my house. I was a bit too far away to call out to him, but I could see that he seemed mildly irritated as no-one was answering the door after he had pressed the bell.
His irritation turned to mild surprise as he looked in my direction, to see me hustling towards him with a couple of shopping bags. "Hey, I think you are looking for me," I said, only slightly out of breath. "Kann sein," he responded.
Sure enough, it was my second package!
I quickly signed for it, then shoved it inside the door, then went back to the house two doors down, rang the doorbell, and was delighted when a woman holding a package addressed to me opened the door. I wished her a pleasant weekend, then returned home with all my stuff.
In fairness, at least one of the drivers who delivers in my neighborhood makes an effort to actually deliver packages. On the positive side, everything worked out as it should have, and by Saturday afternoon I was opening my new kettle.
I tend to glance through the accompanying user's manuals for even the most simple of items, including my new kettle. As our world has grown smaller (and sadly, a lot more ridiculous, though I will refrain from discussing politics, disgusting movie producers, social media, and Arsenal football in this post) I have noticed that the manuals that come with items are usually translated into lots of different languages, which I find very cool. However, it might be a stretch to actually call these user guides, because more often than not, there is simply a set of pictures illustrating the step by step process.
OK, so there really is not too much involved in heating up water, but what I had failed to realize when selecting my new kettle was that there was no indicator light. Again, this is not a huge deal, but two days before when I was telling a friend that I had just ordered a kettle, he asked me what color the indicator light was, and went on to explain that he had recently had a kettle that had a blue light, which didn't seem logical, as one does not usually think of blue when thinking of boiling water, but rather red, or as in the case with my old kettle, orange. I plugged my new appliance into the socket, and looked forward to seeing what color the light would be, and was slightly let down.
That being said, the water heats up nicely, and makes a sound that I find quite comforting.
Last evening, as I was cleaning up after dinner, I spent a few extra minutes on my salad spinner. This particular gem I ordered (and received without any delivery incident) several months ago, and I absolutely love it. Not only have I increased my greens consumption by about 1000%, I just like the idea of thinking that my lettuce really enjoys playing on the "sit n spin."
The item itself is very simple and fun to use. Sometimes I get a little frustrated with the colander, since I have to kind of work harder to get all the small bits washed out, but that is a small price to pay. One thing that I had been wondering about, though, was the top portion, where the spinning happens. Over the past months, I never have felt like I could clean that as well as I would have liked, and I thought, "Hey, it would be really cool if this piece can come apart."
Pop.
Just by playing with the lid a little bit, I realized that indeed, the top did separate into a couple of parts that immediately made cleaning almost fun. I dug out the user's guide again, just to see what I had overlooked months ago, but never found a picture illustrating how one took the top apart. Alas, it seems some technical writers believe certain things to be intuitive.
And of course, this is exactly why I never looked for an indicator to light up telling me when the lettuce is clean.
See you out there.
bryan
For years, I have worked in the repair logistics industry, and the frequency of delivery incidents has always amazed me. All too often, it seems that the incidents could have been avoided simply by confirming the address. I have resolved countless situations where a package could not be delivered because the customer was not at home. Upon speaking with the client, I would find out that the customer had given their home address despite knowing that they would not actually be at home when the package was to be delivered. "Oh, I work during that day, so was not at home," is something I have heard repeatedly. "Can the package be routed to my office?"
"Of course," I would always respond. "Any reason you didn't specify that address when arranging the service?"
This works in both directions, of course. Just last week, I had a particularly difficult situation where a customer had sent their mobile device into the repair center for service, but somehow the wrong contact name was listed on the waybill. As a result, despite the fact that the delivery location was an actual repair center, the small package was put on the desk of some guy who happened to be on holiday. Two weeks later, he returned to find a package on his desk, and he immediately gave the unit to the repair area. Unfortunately, the two week delay caused great dissatisfaction to the customer, and understandably so.
Last year, the company I work for took over the management of the mobile phone repair network for a billion dollar company. During the first months of our involvement, I handled several cases where naive customers (and rather poorly trained customer care centers) sent their expensive mobile device simply to the address of the company headquarters, where the package would effectively go into a black hole and never reach the place it should have.
In my own personal life, I always take care to make absolutely sure I am specifying the address that I want a package delivered to. I make my share of online orders, and really appreciate the requirement that I confirm, then re-confirm the shipping address before my order is finalized.
So, last Thursday morning when the switch on my electric kettle finally broke, I jumped online and placed an order for a replacement Wasserkocher. At the check out screen I confirmed my address, and looked forward to receiving it in the next day or two. Normally, the order confirmation gives a target date for when the package will be delivered, and when I received my per-alert that the order had been sent, I knew to expect delivery sometime on Saturday.
I really only had one task to do on Saturday, which was to do the shopping. I figured I would putter around the flat during the morning, at least until the delivery guy showed up, then go to the store.
By early afternoon, I decided to take a chance and dash down the street to the store; I was tired of waiting and really wanted to avoid the late-afternoon shopping rush. I would just have to risk missing the arrival of the delivery guy.
As I stepped out of my front door, I checked my mailbox, and found a "Sorry we missed you!" delivery notice. The notice went on to inform me that my package had been left at the house two doors down from me. I was rather surprised and irritated. I had been home the whole morning, as had several other neighbors who live not only in my building, but also the building right next door.
The bell never rang, and I suspect it is because the delivery driver never bothered to press the bell.
Many years ago, I did have the unfortunate issue where my doorbell was not functioning, but I never knew this. At the time (much the way it is now), I was not receiving a lot of visitors, so it took me longer to realize that there had been a problem. However, that was a long time back, so there really was no excuse this time. After all, I know perfectly well that my doorbell is in working order.
The thing was, I had ordered two items on Thursday, and this meant that there would actually be two deliveries. Therefore, I still needed to be quick at the store, so that I could return home and plant myself at the window overlooking the street to make sure that the next driver didn't try and pull the same stunt and simply put a notice in my mailbox instead of attempting to deliver the package. I took my notice with me, and after making my quick shopping trip, I intended to stop off at the house two doors down so as to collect my first package.
My shopping trips are always pretty short, and I was fortunate to have been in the shortest check-out line, so 15 minutes later I was about half a block from my house when I saw a guy carrying two packages. He looked a lot like guy intent on making a delivery, and sure enough, I could see that he was approaching my house. I was a bit too far away to call out to him, but I could see that he seemed mildly irritated as no-one was answering the door after he had pressed the bell.
His irritation turned to mild surprise as he looked in my direction, to see me hustling towards him with a couple of shopping bags. "Hey, I think you are looking for me," I said, only slightly out of breath. "Kann sein," he responded.
Sure enough, it was my second package!
I quickly signed for it, then shoved it inside the door, then went back to the house two doors down, rang the doorbell, and was delighted when a woman holding a package addressed to me opened the door. I wished her a pleasant weekend, then returned home with all my stuff.
In fairness, at least one of the drivers who delivers in my neighborhood makes an effort to actually deliver packages. On the positive side, everything worked out as it should have, and by Saturday afternoon I was opening my new kettle.
I tend to glance through the accompanying user's manuals for even the most simple of items, including my new kettle. As our world has grown smaller (and sadly, a lot more ridiculous, though I will refrain from discussing politics, disgusting movie producers, social media, and Arsenal football in this post) I have noticed that the manuals that come with items are usually translated into lots of different languages, which I find very cool. However, it might be a stretch to actually call these user guides, because more often than not, there is simply a set of pictures illustrating the step by step process.
OK, so there really is not too much involved in heating up water, but what I had failed to realize when selecting my new kettle was that there was no indicator light. Again, this is not a huge deal, but two days before when I was telling a friend that I had just ordered a kettle, he asked me what color the indicator light was, and went on to explain that he had recently had a kettle that had a blue light, which didn't seem logical, as one does not usually think of blue when thinking of boiling water, but rather red, or as in the case with my old kettle, orange. I plugged my new appliance into the socket, and looked forward to seeing what color the light would be, and was slightly let down.
That being said, the water heats up nicely, and makes a sound that I find quite comforting.
Last evening, as I was cleaning up after dinner, I spent a few extra minutes on my salad spinner. This particular gem I ordered (and received without any delivery incident) several months ago, and I absolutely love it. Not only have I increased my greens consumption by about 1000%, I just like the idea of thinking that my lettuce really enjoys playing on the "sit n spin."
The item itself is very simple and fun to use. Sometimes I get a little frustrated with the colander, since I have to kind of work harder to get all the small bits washed out, but that is a small price to pay. One thing that I had been wondering about, though, was the top portion, where the spinning happens. Over the past months, I never have felt like I could clean that as well as I would have liked, and I thought, "Hey, it would be really cool if this piece can come apart."
Pop.
Just by playing with the lid a little bit, I realized that indeed, the top did separate into a couple of parts that immediately made cleaning almost fun. I dug out the user's guide again, just to see what I had overlooked months ago, but never found a picture illustrating how one took the top apart. Alas, it seems some technical writers believe certain things to be intuitive.
And of course, this is exactly why I never looked for an indicator to light up telling me when the lettuce is clean.
See you out there.
bryan
Monday, October 02, 2017
Deliberate Dairy Dreaming? Don't Think So
For the past week or so, I have cut back on visits to the pub. It is not just that I wanted to reduce my intake of beer, but I think I was also feeling just a wee bit antisocial. Spending a few quiet nights at home is never really a bad thing, in my opinion. Besides, it is not as if I want to become a hermit. It is simply an act of taking time for myself and being a little quiet.
One or two evenings, I watched a couple of football matches via a streaming website, and other nights I just played a DVD of an old film. After all, I don't think one can ever watch "Rear Window" too many times. Meanwhile, my couch beverage of choice turned out to be milk.
Now, I have always been a huge fan of milk; I am probably in the category of "chugger." (note - I just now did a google search and was mildly surprised to find a wikipedia article about milk chugging. I, however, am referring more to the fact that I simply like milk). At any rate, I found myself drinking a liter or so almost each evening I stayed a home. This meant that I needed to head to the grocery store more frequently, but no matter.
What I did not expect was the impact the increase in lactose (and the reduction in grains) would have on my sleep. Multiple times I went to bed, fell asleep, then woke up after what felt like 7 or 8 hours, only to find that I had been asleep for only 2 or 3. The most recent instance happened just last night. I went to bed at a reasonable 10h30 and was awakened by my neighbors, who were arguing in the next flat.
My neighbors are a young couple who moved in at the beginning of summer. They are nice enough people, but after the first couple of weeks, I really did not see them so much as heard them, and rather often, at that. I quickly realized that they both are argumentative, and neither seems to be particularly aware of how loud they tend to be. Last night was particularly entertaining as the argument (like all of them: petty) was a lively discussion about their shoes and where to put them. The guy was making a point about sweaty feet and how that would not be very pleasant to have all the shoes in the bedroom, while the girl was explaining that by keeping the window open, there would be enough fresh air to help eliminate odor, if any.
At the time, I thought that they both were arguing as part of their morning routine, as I think one of them has just started a new job, meaning that they leave the house around 6 or 6h30 in the morning. I was about to start my own routine to rouse myself for the start of the day and was surprised when I reached over to check the clock on my phone and found it was only 1h30 in the morning. I had only been asleep for 3 hours!
I actually got up and went into the kitchen. I almost took a slug of milk, but thankfully stopped myself, and opted instead for a ciggy on the balcony. That turned out to be a poor decision, as my neighbors window was open, and I could clearly hear them continuing their flippant remarks. In fact, I am surprised that everyone who lives in the vicinity wasn't up, it was so loud. Many folks know that my back balcony looks onto a scene not dissimilar from that of "Rear Window," and as it is normally pretty quiet, any kind of disturbance really stands out. I thought about this for a few minutes as I finished smoking, remembering a recent early morning when I sat on my balcony, cup of coffee in hand, thinking how absolutely still it was.
So, I returned to bed, read for a few minutes, and finally fell back to sleep. As I enjoyed my Zzzzs, I found myself dreaming about getting myself stuck in the little cellar opening that every bar in my neighborhood has. This opening is where the beer delivery guy drops the kegs into the cellar, and I have always found the process pretty fascinating (albeit practical). OK, it does not take much to fascinate me, but in this particular situation I was finding myself at the center of things. Somehow, I had managed to get myself lodged into the space where I could no longer move. I could not back out of the hole, and I could not climb out onto the street. Things did not get better when one of the kegs suddenly opened and I was being flooded by the local pilsner.
With that, I found myself awake, and was glad to find that it was just coming 7am, my normal wake up hour. Like with most of my dreams, no matter how vivid certain parts are, the beginnings and endings always seem to elude me.
Take last week for example. There I was sleeping soundly, dreaming away, when I found myself accidentally breaking the flat screen television at a house while attending a party hosted by the German midfielder of Arsenal. Why I was invited to the party (or how I got there), I have no idea, but I remember thinking, "Gosh, I had not planned for this particular cash outlay" after I returned home and placed an order for a replacement via Amazon. I was, however, quite touched at the nice thank-you note that the guy sent me...
As if that incident weren't enough, one more dream from last week stuck with me. Somehow, I was standing on a wobbly balcony on the 5th floor an apartment building. I am almost certain it was Chris who was standing next to me, or at least he was until he jumped off and then made a gymnastic landing worthy of an Olympic medal on the ground below. The crowd of people who witnessed this all burst into applause, and continued to cheer as he signed a few autographs, then effortlessly threw his ink pen up to me, still standing there five stories above. Of course I caught the pen with both hands behind my back (and my eyes closed), and that's when I woke up.
So, here's to a nice bizarre start to October.
see you out there
bryan
One or two evenings, I watched a couple of football matches via a streaming website, and other nights I just played a DVD of an old film. After all, I don't think one can ever watch "Rear Window" too many times. Meanwhile, my couch beverage of choice turned out to be milk.
Now, I have always been a huge fan of milk; I am probably in the category of "chugger." (note - I just now did a google search and was mildly surprised to find a wikipedia article about milk chugging. I, however, am referring more to the fact that I simply like milk). At any rate, I found myself drinking a liter or so almost each evening I stayed a home. This meant that I needed to head to the grocery store more frequently, but no matter.
What I did not expect was the impact the increase in lactose (and the reduction in grains) would have on my sleep. Multiple times I went to bed, fell asleep, then woke up after what felt like 7 or 8 hours, only to find that I had been asleep for only 2 or 3. The most recent instance happened just last night. I went to bed at a reasonable 10h30 and was awakened by my neighbors, who were arguing in the next flat.
My neighbors are a young couple who moved in at the beginning of summer. They are nice enough people, but after the first couple of weeks, I really did not see them so much as heard them, and rather often, at that. I quickly realized that they both are argumentative, and neither seems to be particularly aware of how loud they tend to be. Last night was particularly entertaining as the argument (like all of them: petty) was a lively discussion about their shoes and where to put them. The guy was making a point about sweaty feet and how that would not be very pleasant to have all the shoes in the bedroom, while the girl was explaining that by keeping the window open, there would be enough fresh air to help eliminate odor, if any.
At the time, I thought that they both were arguing as part of their morning routine, as I think one of them has just started a new job, meaning that they leave the house around 6 or 6h30 in the morning. I was about to start my own routine to rouse myself for the start of the day and was surprised when I reached over to check the clock on my phone and found it was only 1h30 in the morning. I had only been asleep for 3 hours!
I actually got up and went into the kitchen. I almost took a slug of milk, but thankfully stopped myself, and opted instead for a ciggy on the balcony. That turned out to be a poor decision, as my neighbors window was open, and I could clearly hear them continuing their flippant remarks. In fact, I am surprised that everyone who lives in the vicinity wasn't up, it was so loud. Many folks know that my back balcony looks onto a scene not dissimilar from that of "Rear Window," and as it is normally pretty quiet, any kind of disturbance really stands out. I thought about this for a few minutes as I finished smoking, remembering a recent early morning when I sat on my balcony, cup of coffee in hand, thinking how absolutely still it was.
So, I returned to bed, read for a few minutes, and finally fell back to sleep. As I enjoyed my Zzzzs, I found myself dreaming about getting myself stuck in the little cellar opening that every bar in my neighborhood has. This opening is where the beer delivery guy drops the kegs into the cellar, and I have always found the process pretty fascinating (albeit practical). OK, it does not take much to fascinate me, but in this particular situation I was finding myself at the center of things. Somehow, I had managed to get myself lodged into the space where I could no longer move. I could not back out of the hole, and I could not climb out onto the street. Things did not get better when one of the kegs suddenly opened and I was being flooded by the local pilsner.
With that, I found myself awake, and was glad to find that it was just coming 7am, my normal wake up hour. Like with most of my dreams, no matter how vivid certain parts are, the beginnings and endings always seem to elude me.
Take last week for example. There I was sleeping soundly, dreaming away, when I found myself accidentally breaking the flat screen television at a house while attending a party hosted by the German midfielder of Arsenal. Why I was invited to the party (or how I got there), I have no idea, but I remember thinking, "Gosh, I had not planned for this particular cash outlay" after I returned home and placed an order for a replacement via Amazon. I was, however, quite touched at the nice thank-you note that the guy sent me...
As if that incident weren't enough, one more dream from last week stuck with me. Somehow, I was standing on a wobbly balcony on the 5th floor an apartment building. I am almost certain it was Chris who was standing next to me, or at least he was until he jumped off and then made a gymnastic landing worthy of an Olympic medal on the ground below. The crowd of people who witnessed this all burst into applause, and continued to cheer as he signed a few autographs, then effortlessly threw his ink pen up to me, still standing there five stories above. Of course I caught the pen with both hands behind my back (and my eyes closed), and that's when I woke up.
So, here's to a nice bizarre start to October.
see you out there
bryan
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