I didn’t want to bore you with an overly long entry yesterday, so I decided to tell you about last nights debacle today. I arrived back at the hostel to discover a pretty girl in reception, and I casually inquire at the desk while unashamedly throwing my voice if there was somewhere good to go tonight. To my delight the girl turns and informs me that her sister wants to indulge in some drinking and would meet me later on. I’ve been set up on a sudden blind date, while her sister probably knows nothing about it. An interesting and unusual situation, but if her sister is as good looking as she is, I’m in for a good night.
She is. And she’s older. Monica is a very attractive American girl, and she is just as surprised as me to be on a random date set up by her younger sibling. We spend a lovely evening at a local restaurant bar, conversing with Dresdeners and tourists alike. At one point a middle aged gentleman asks us to improve his translation for a poem he has written. We tell bad jokes. We share the same love for The Dark Knight et al. We get on like a house on fire. Five hours fly by.
Entering the club and we’re dancing like loons, before she pulls me close for a passionate kiss. I’m feeling on top of the world and I own the place as I slip away for a quick smoke in the designated area. Upon returning, I discover her wrapped up with some tall Aussie dude, arms all over her, totally shameless.
“I’m not a bad person, but I’m going for a drink with this guy”.
She walks away to the bar, and he’s put his arm to her waist. Then I do something I’ve never done in my life and I bitterly, bitterly regret in the cold light of day. I can only blame the Vodka.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I demand as I shove the guy in the throat. I follow with another vicious attack pushing him a fair distance back as I advance. “Is this some kind of fucking joke?” He’s stammering something of a response and although he’s twice the size of me, he’s bolted away from my reach. Monica is slurring about not fighting and wanting to “explain” as I give chase, then all his giant mates start to come down the stairs. “Please don’t fight” she moans. Probably used to the line.
Now I’m drunk, but I’m not stupid. I’ve said something along the childish lines of “fucking outside now”, and with as much conviction as I can muster pretend I’m leading them all out, before moving at pace to slump round the corner in the gutter. My head finds the cold uncomfort of the road sign next to me, and tranquility momentarily takes over. What the hell just happened? I wipe away my usual melancholic melodramatic tear.
I return to the hostel alone in the early hours. A perfect night perfectly ruined. Hunger takes over and I open the kitchen fridge door to see if there is a rogue slice of salami with my name on it. Yes I know it’s not mine but one wouldn’t hurt. I find some Leerdammer cheese and reach to console myself. Three shelves of the fridge come crashing loudly down, everyone’s shopping spills onto the floor, a tomato pasta sauce jar smashes across the tiles. Really Jesus? Really?
Thank you Monica Jones from Seattle. Perhaps you aren’t really a bad person, and you’re not a total bitch. Perhaps I just misunderstood our lovely evening and subsequent embrace. Perhaps starting fights and stealing cheese causes fridges to break. Perhaps I deserved everything I got.
At the very least, you gave me a good story.