Legging it

Trip Start Sep 28, 2011
1
300
332
Trip End Ongoing


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Flag of Germany  ,
Monday, July 23, 2012

I was so wrapped up in my Berlin euphoria and new found sense of life that I forgot to mention I went out last night and sought out an open mike night.  Here I found just the sort of people I've been talking about playing music and partying hard until the last person leaves the bar.  Even when things got too much for even me, I'm stumbling up the road in the small hours with the bars still full of revelers.  I've no idea how to get home, so I walk until I see something I recognise.  Not once do I fill ill at ease, or concerned that I should take a taxi.  I don't actually think I've seen a police officer since being here.  

So once again today I'm left to pick up the pieces of another night on the tiles.  That is until I decide to give a friend a bell and see if he wants to go out tonight; which obviously he does.  I blame this city.  It's possibly the most hedonistic place I've ever been, certainly not helped by the rush of warm summer weather that has finally come in.  Honestly if it had been raining I would have left by now and my liver would be thanking the skies.

Harrison has one of those fancy mobile phonemabobs that can find places.  I've only ever used mine to make calls and send texts.  He's been tapping away on it in a bid to find a local Irish bar, but as is often the case with such technology, it's lead us to a strange club where everything in it is upside down.  I'm examining a shelf put on the wrong way round when it suddenly dawns on me the room is stuck to the ceiling.  They're also playing some really dodgy experimental music, with one girl sat on a floor in a dark room pressing buttons on a synth.  An Irish bar it is not, but we still manage to have a decent time with the crazy people that frequent the place.  Berlin fashion needs to be seen to be believed.  Unique is a word.  Odd is another.  Psychotic is also useful in this context.  Each to their own.

Harrison has no fear when it comes to speaking to the opposite sex.  Why would he; he's a 6 foot something blond good looking German.  In he fires to two hot Norwegian girls, but I've been drinking some heavy beers in massive glasses, so I'm feeling a little woozy.  After attempting to speak to a gobby Irish girl I decide to call it a day and flee up the road without telling anyone.  A classic Stuart maneuver to save the drunken embarrassed goodbyes.  I think I actually ran away.  Typical.     


  
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