Tuesday, 27 January 2009

Frankfurt....almost


Yes I'm in Frankfurt my little minions... well, Dreiech to be exact - 20 minutes south of the main city. We, a colleague and I, arrived on Monday to be shipped off to the head office in no man's land... and you seriously have to look for it on the map. The taxi ride was actually quite a tranquil one. Lined by millions of millions of these really tall, thin naked trees all family to forests that
never end.


Really through me as all I was thinking about for the rest of day during meetings was taking a nice long walk through the vast expanses of Frankfurt's dry golden brown squirrel-lands. I'm here til Friday, so maybe on the way to the airport I'll ask an expectantly bemused cab-driver to pull over so this hippy can get off this ride and go kick some leaves around amongst the grizzlies (I know I know, just thought it sounded poetic).



So Bebo and I finish up for the day and headed back to the hotel to suit up and hit the only pub in this one horse town which is conveniently located on the corner of our matchbox - turned out the only day the pub is closed is Monday...perfect. We were literally dehydrating for an alcoholic beverage, and stranded in sub zero temperatures with not a Steine in site.

Bebo: "Look Mud, a neon light!"
Me: "Don't you dare tease me my little Asian friend!"
Bebo: "I shit you not, over the train tracks, look!"

There, in the distance like a palmed tree oasis in the Sahara, was a 'REAL' (supermarket) standing proudly on the other side of an old set of rusted train tracks that looked like they hadn't been used since the 40's (ooooo, too close?). We crossed the road, something which has almost ended me a hand full of times in the last 24 hours, Germans driving on the wrong side and all, and entered into the sickly coloured red neon haven, glowing like the fevered forgeiners we were.

Another obstacle... The booze was locked behind a transparent cabinet, so close and yet...

Me: "Let me handle this my second generational friend..." I said, my voice drentched in confident calmness. I strolled over confidently to the nearest man in uniform.

Me (to the 'I hate myself and my dead end job' clerk): "Het jy die sleutels vir die....alcohol asseblief (thanks Mr Van Zyl, knew it would come in handy some day)?"
Clerk (who was already hating me): "zezgkjskjxhdodrfcndlkhlkf?" (I knew it was a question because he raised the pitch of his voice at the end of his sentence, it could mean only one thing...)
Me: "Jagermeister, what else?"

My little Kim-Jong-Il impersonator colleague grabbed a bottle of Spiced Gold because he had sheepishly admitted earlier that he had never actually tasted the sweet nectar of Jesus' tears that is the Gold.

Me: "Well then I think you're about ready aren't you?"

Paid, vaulted the train tracks, dodged the the traffic (Look right, look left and right again, Thanks Woofles!) and snuck back safely to the little facist man's hotel room were we proceeded to empty out the minibar to make way for more important things like coke, red bull and Jager. Then finally concocted ourselves two of the strongest Spice Gold and Cokes ever known to man, very very opaque... Oh my chapped lips were finally soothed!

The Communist quietly worked out how easy it was (and it is, very easy) to activate the 'pay' channels which had Star Wars: The Clones Wars (crappy kids version of the real thing) on the one channel, and hard core retinal scarring German porn on the other two. If you do the math, we ended up watching Star Wars for 33.3% of the time.

Let me tell you, by the time you get half way through a bottle of rum, the awkwardness of watching a 'light saber duel' by two Jedis over Queen Amadala with a work colleague fades quickly... We were soon doing our own translations...

Well I think that pretty much brings us up to speed. Bebo has had the meanest of hangovers today, his little immune system processing frantically to no avail. Me, well I've actually been pretty good thanks. Apart from the bad Asian food at lunch, more onions than beef, I think I'll pull through.

Al vede seg (or what ever.)

Yours under a very cold grey sky, with blood shot eyes and a Swedish double up surprize (Ill explain when you are older;)


Posted by Picasa

No comments:

Post a Comment

I'm watching you...