The day drifts away as you would expect from a lazy weekend, but we’ve been convinced to go to an Electronica festival by a strange German girl who has arrived in our midst. She seems to be jumping from a French Canadian guy to a Dutchman, both of whom are staying in our dorm room. Awkward much? At this point I feel I should apologise for using ‘awkward much’ as a description of the situation. I’m not 12. Not physically at least.
We mess around doing very little until the sun starts to go down, then with this being our last night together, and the German girl choosing the Canadian, Katty and myself have somehow inherited the Dutch chap. He’s a nice enough lad, but I feel we’re babysitting for much of the night. A third spoke in the wheel if you will. He’s not really getting the message, although I’m not being rude, I’m merely hinting he should bugger off. Three’s a crowd an’ all. Apparently this night out is in walking distance. It isn’t. We trudge some miles up the road only to turn back after being affronted with hideous heavy techno warehouse nonsense.
Now don’t get me wrong, I love a good bit of dirty techno, but much like drinking coffee when you thought it was tea, it’s left a horrible taste in my mouth. I expected green fields with ambient tunes, a beer garden atmosphere, people sitting around having a smoke and chilling out. I get pill head, hard core mental East Germans, inches away from either starting a fight or selling cocaine. I try to encourage the Dutch guy to give it a try, that the girl might be inside. In the end we find out she didn’t go. The epitome of a wasted evening. We manage to offload the hanger on though when we get back into town, so it wasn’t a total disaster. Especially if you’re really quiet
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Techno nonsense
The day drifts away as you would expect from a lazy weekend, but we’ve been convinced to go to an Electronica festival by a strange German girl who has arrived in our midst. She seems to be jumping from a French Canadian guy to a Dutchman, both of whom are staying in our dorm room. Awkward much? At this point I feel I should apologise for using ‘awkward much’ as a description of the situation. I’m not 12. Not physically at least.
We mess around doing very little until the sun starts to go down, then with this being our last night together, and the German girl choosing the Canadian, Katty and myself have somehow inherited the Dutch chap. He’s a nice enough lad, but I feel we’re babysitting for much of the night. A third spoke in the wheel if you will. He’s not really getting the message, although I’m not being rude, I’m merely hinting he should bugger off. Three’s a crowd an’ all. Apparently this night out is in walking distance. It isn’t. We trudge some miles up the road only to turn back after being affronted with hideous heavy techno warehouse nonsense.
Now don’t get me wrong, I love a good bit of dirty techno, but much like drinking coffee when you thought it was tea, it’s left a horrible taste in my mouth. I expected green fields with ambient tunes, a beer garden atmosphere, people sitting around having a smoke and chilling out. I get pill head, hard core mental East Germans, inches away from either starting a fight or selling cocaine. I try to encourage the Dutch guy to give it a try, that the girl might be inside. In the end we find out she didn’t go. The epitome of a wasted evening. We manage to offload the hanger on though when we get back into town, so it wasn’t a total disaster. Especially if you’re really quiet
.