The Kiez, Hamburg
"You see these people? They're fucking stupid, they're fucking idiots, look at them, drunk, vomiting, fucking stupid, but they're having fun, and to have fun you have to be like them; you have to be fucking stupid."

These are the words of the then drunk brother of a good friend of mine; I could smell the spirits on his breath. His drunken invitation, his drunken order, for me to drink the Hamburgers' preferred concotion of Vodka, Tequila, Tomato Juice and Tobasco Sauce, to embrace the night with him and his mate and to embrace his sister, my friend, "only for fun!". I had my share of Mexicaners, as I believe they are known, and my share of propositions from German slappers. The more the alcohol took hold the less I noticed the blood, the prettier the intentionally unconvincing transvestites seemed and the more acceptable the moon-boot clad whores became. I drank like a broken man for two hours and danced like a madman for five. I had the time of my life in the Kiez and learned that if you want to sieze the moment, as well as a handful of Frauleins, you have to become as fucking stupid as the best of them.

I'll never forget the Kiez.
(Frozen_Banana Shaved against the grain; thoroughly unrewarding., Mon 13 Apr 2009, 17:36, Reply)