This past week finished up a lot better than it started, but at a price.
On Monday evening, we resumed our Kioskabends, and while it was nice to see Papri (the Kiosk owner) again after her 3 week holiday, it was ridiculously cold. Standing around outside became less and less comfortable. It did not help much when passersby, mostly friends and Kumpels, made remarks like, "Guys, it's cold as shit outside, what the hell are you thinking?"
No one wanted to be the first to admit that we are all feeling too cold, but after an hour and a half, we elected to finish our evening in the warmth of the pub. However, because I saw a couple of friends there, I ended up staying out a wee bit later than a normal Monday night.
My father had flown to Wisconsin to visit my aunt and uncle for the week. He had been hoping for snow, and he was delighted to find half a meter accumulation upon his arrival, and another half meter on Tuesday. We did a video call on Tuesday afternoon and I explained that we were having pretty chilly weather in Frankfurt, too, but I certainly understood that it was MUCH colder where he was. When it gets to minus 23 degrees CELSIUS...
Throughout the next couple of days, my dad regularly posted photos of him playing in the snow, and I got a kick out of it. Those of us that have less experience with winter weather tend to like those brief moments, especially since we know it will be brief.
I spent most of my week staying cozy. On Thursday, Frankfurt had about 20 minutes of snow, and I enjoyed watching the big flakes come down from my balcony, cup of coffee in hand. That afternoon, I was delighted to get an email from a composer that I had written to earlier in the month. During one of my little concerts for my grandmother over the holidays, she commented on how much she liked a particular piece. She mentioned it multiple times afterwards, so I felt inclined to let the composer know. His response was very gracious and it was a good feeling, so I spent quite a bit of time Thursday and Friday afternoon at the piano (in my cozy living room).
Friday evening, I ventured over to the pub with plans to watch the Arsenal FA cup match. I was feeling a bit somber as I reflected on my parents wedding anniversary, but the company and the coziness of the pub was comforting. It got extremely cozy as the pub filled up with more guests than usual on Friday evening (which, to be fair, tend to be pretty full, anyway). However, Germany were playing in the semi-final of the Handball World Cup, and this is a pretty big deal in Europe. This year, the tournament was being held in Germany, but regardless of that, people were out to view the game and root the team on.
The problem was, there were already two football matches being shown at the pub. This reduced the amount of screens available to show the Handball, which did not go over so well with all the folks who arrived to find a pretty packed pub. Midway through the first half of the game, it started snowing heavily outside, which knocked out the satellite feed for the Handball. The pub has about three different satellite boxes so as to be able to access and show various sporting events, particularly football from Britain, and a lot of the Irish sports. The pub is not a sports bar, per se, but is definitely a place that people go to watch their games, myself included. When a technical issue disrupts things, people start to get excited. Fortunately, the outage was rather brief, and before too long, all matches were being shown as planned.
Despite the crowded pub, I had a place at the bar with a couple of friends. This was a big match for Arsenal, but we all had low expectations. The game was interesting until the second half, then we realized we would be crashing out of the cup. Meanwhile, the group of fans that were watching the other football match had to live with a draw. And, Germany ended up losing their Handball match.
Result? Most of the fans were all disappointed with the results, but being Friday night at the pub, the mood stayed pretty lively. Maybe it was the fact that there was a little snow on the ground and we were all snugged up inside the warm pub. Maybe it was just one of those great Friday nights where the crowd is in form. Most likely, the alcohol helped.
In short, I really tied one on. I completely lost track of time. A friend tried 3 times to go home, and 3 times ordered another beer, instead. It was already late, but rather than go home with the knowledge that I had already had 2 or 3 too many, I encountered a few more friends and yep, ordered another beer, myself.
Looking back, it was a really good night. No, I shouldn't have gone to the after hours bar for "another," but I am glad I went, just the same. As I was getting into bed (erm, lying down on the couch) I noticed that it was going 4h30 am, and as my eyes closed, I thought to myself, "Ouch. Tomorrow is going to be tough."
And indeed it was.
Yesterday, I hardly left the sofa. I reminded myself that I was no longer 23 years old and I would just have to suffer through the hangover. Late in the afternoon, I rallied briefly and had a catch up call with my father before crawling back onto the couch to watch another film or two.
During the evening, I started feeling a little better, and knew another nights sleep would set me right. I did not beat myself up to bad. After all, I rarely go on frantic pub sessions these days, and the previous evening had really been enjoyable; the perfect mix of friends and acquaintances and good conversation. This is precisely what makes pub time so great.
So, maybe I did have to pay a bit of a price for a good evening, but it was worth it. And the memory will tide me over until the next time.
see you out there
bryan
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