hotel hessischer hof, franfkurt, beginning of december 2002. the last night

i put on a dress and some make up and then up and down and out we went. not that any of the bars we visited would ever enter our list of all time favourite hangouts, the alcohol did its job in camouflaging the complete lack of style and atmosphere nicely. bottles. the men liked ordering bottles of stuff, that was a thing i instantaneously noticed. bottles of cremants as starters. not champagne, R. explained. champagne was only for those who didn't know or care. a good cremant, of the right winery, could be so much better than most of the sparkling wines sold anywhere. and it should be drunk by the bottle, otherwise there was no way knowing what the winemaker had it intended to be about. The true tale of each winemaker could be distilled if one drank his best sparkling. to the bottom. so there we went. i was this nights guinea pig to prove R.´s empirical research of bottle drinking. i was to learn the winemakers stories behind their great grapes.  a cremant de Loire, pink. bottle. drink. glass filled, i drink it up, and more glasses, same routine. bottle empty. new bottle. just one glass each, and off to the next place, leave the bottle behind, even though only halfway emptied. More sparklings. i would say half a bottle each, and then some, as the bottom needed to be reached. cocktails too. those, that goes without saying, did not go by the bottle. mojito, b52, the bar´s own martini, mixed with conversations. questions asked to and fro. nothing worth remembering, neither the questions, nor the answers given by any of the three of us. Oh what fun we had. we did. i started to relax a little for the first time that week, as a matter of fact. I laughed. I had fun. all was good. I liked the city, afterall. maybe i needed to know this city by night only. And both R. and Maiko were actually quite funny. i think. i did laugh at their jokes, but maybe they weren´t telling any jokes. we did laugh a lot. we ate i think, we went to macdonalds or something I had insisted on it. the lights in the fast food restaurant shone bright, but in the pink bubble of yet another bottle of cremant purchased someplace, it was a nice bright. It had taken some negotiations to get the men to accompany me, but  i needed food too. badly. too much alcohol in my blood.  i ate my veggie burger, the two guys watching me chew and swallow. now, our venture was to go on. the bars were to be left behind, we could always return to one later. first, we would go dance. 

we went into the first club we found, but it was still very early for any nightlife to happen. with the exception of the odd customer, no one there.  it was sufficient for us however, we had our private little party. we sat down next to the dancefloor. the dj and the light technician pretended that it was full house, loud music, strobelights, smokemachine in full action. without any customers it looked completely meaningless, all smoke and mirrors for nothing. but that is how nights work. good clubs are the perfect nothing, the guest are what make the night, they are the circus artists, but instead of being paid, they willingly leave their money to be a star in their own show for a couple of hours.  we sat on our plush chairs and looked around, at the lights, the bar, the staff and at the freak: no matter where you go, every night has one fixed parameter. before the night really starts to take off, there is the freak. the freak is a guy, at first glance harmless, but deadly to nightlife if given too much space. usually not very handsome, clothing and hair look like they have not been washed for at least three weeks. the freak dances without limitation. what i mean is that he has no inhibitions, no shame. he moves just the way his feelings tell him to, and that does not have to be anywhere close to the beat of a song. if you go to a club, everybody dances in codes. like in the old days, the court days. it is not so apparent any more, the steps seem more random, but do not let this superficial observation fool you. trends do happen, every social layer has its own movement. every music scene their own steps. except for the freak: he juggles his body in a spastic fashion, reaches his point of exaltation within ten minutes, and stays on his peak from there on. as long as the freak dances, no one in their right mind will dare step on the dancefloor, as if his socially unadapted behaviour is contagious, the social status the professional party goers have will be diminished by mere proximity to the freak. then, by some kind of unspoken rule, the freak disappears, he never stays late. the real party may begin. bottle. vodka. i said i could not do vodka. or, so i explained, i could do vodka but the night would, i predicted,  change soon. it would be like this: me, hanging over a toilet-bowl. the one in my or R.s hotelroom. throwing up. R. would have to lean over me and would have to keep my hair from getting into my face. i hate it when i throw up and my hair gets in my face or wet by the vomit. R. looked at me. an expression in his eyes i had never seen before: "oh, i would love to do that for you, that would be so beautiful." i stared at him, not quite sure how to interpret this. neither of us said a lot after his statement. So it was another bottle of sparkly, for me, and  vodka for the guys. The club was  no longer as desolate as when we got in. and we had our fun anyway. the dj was spinning and concentrating on mixing the minimal records in such fashion that they sounded like one boring track. a group of girls dancing, looking our way, the guys smiling back. i smiled back as well. i found it funny how the girls were so interested in two men at least twice their age. they looked nice, the girls. fresh., lipgloss, a little blusher. they were somehow untarnished. happy. Maiko looked at the girls and said he needed a refreshment. he went to the mens´ room. when he came back R. went to the toilet as well. Maiko had a chewinggum in his mouth and was gnawing on it. he started talking to me. The nights he and R. had were always so special he confided, but now, here, with me it was even better, i did bring out the best in R. did i know that? I shouldn't look so surprised, i must know how much i meant to him. "He really cherishes you. you are so special to him, you help him so much with whatever that little thing the two of you do is, I should have seen him during the negotiations today, he was a monster! brilliant! R. tore the  opponents apart without them realising it. Tore them apart, and they were saying thank you and please can we have more of his batter? they would have loved for the assault to go on and on, and would have kept smiling at it, begging for more. it was hilarious" he said.  i should have been there, telling me in hindsight it surely must sound stupid.  next time i had to i simply had to accompany them, i could go as their secretary or something. R. was back from the restroom. Maiko shouted at him: "next time she will go as our secretary or something!" R. nodded and stared at me, blank. Maiko looked at the dancing girls, they were something special he said, he really cherished girls like that.  R. kept looking at me. Then, Maiko asked if i wanted a refreshment. i understood. coke. I did not want to do cocaine. not in Frankfurt, this city had somehow frightened me, and even though i was really having a good time or maybe because of it, i dared not take the risk of the drugs not working the right way.  the days i had spent here had been worrying. and i did not like the way coke makes your heart pound, nor the fact that the effect never wears out on time it keeps on long after you have become bored by it,  when you just want to lie down and sleep.

in the ABC of drugtaking i was surely no novice. at 14 i had started experimenting. these were really sweet naive attempts that lead to nowhere. for instance, in history class i had learned that the Greek oracle of Delphi chewed laurel leaves to go into a trance. if she were capable of babbling like that, i had to try it. One Thursday afternoon when my parents were gone, i closed the curtains in my room. lit some candles and incense and put on an old pink Floyd record of my brother, i was sure that the psychedelic music would enhance the experience. i chewed the laurel leaves my mother kept in her kitchen cupboard for her soup and goulash. I sat on my bed in my room, looking at posters in which i was expecting something would occur soon, movement maybe, a hand sticking out, or at least the colours changing. but nothing happened. The leaves tasted dull, i kept chewing, hoping for this ultimate trip to start, like christiane F. described in her book, but there in my room at my parents house, none of this presented itself. After an hour or so i gave up, opened the curtains, turned the recordplayer off and started doing my homework. I did not give up that lightly however. I would take drugs. My friends had  heard of more culinary drugs: nutmeg, we tried, eating, rolling a joint with it, making tea, didn't work. certain mushrooms, the skin peeled off, were supposed to create some sort of effect, but we didn't remember whether it was the skin or the mushroom we should eat. one part was lethal so we did not dare. after i graduated highschool  came the usual drugtaking of that era: speed, weed, opium, or whatelse was on the menu. recreational use, every three or four months. It was all rather innocent, never too much, not too often. we all had at least one friend who did too much on a daily basis, and seeing them go cold turkey or just loose their minds ending up in an asylum was so not cool.  i had an upstairs neighbour who worked in an institution for the criminally insane. thanks to her employer, she had the most amazing supply of all kinds of prescription drugs. happy times they were. or, rather, happy minutes. i really liked that stuff. the feeling would start with a light urge of giggling. a sense of elation and happiness would tingle into the core of my bones. all is good. all is fine and nice and isn't the planet a good place, and i am a a good person. all is good, my body is warm life is safe. conversation is only possible the first five minutes, slowly i have more difficulty of finding the right combination of words to make a coherent sentence. but i dont feel the need of forming a sentence anymore. talking is just too exhausting. one vodka would be nice. drinking the vodka is the plus to the drug. now all speeds up. for three minutes i am completely transported, a little horny and just at harmony with earth and the universe. then they dont matter either. all that matters is me. my ego and i are one, complete. downside of the medication was that i would fall asleep about ten minutes after taking them. no matter where i was. at home, in a club. sound asleep. it became my own secret contest: to  take the pill, and then stay around at a party just long enough not to crash there but to make it home on my bicycle.  i would award myself with a gold medal if i even managed to take my clothes off before zoning out. but the ten minutes, half an hour most between the intake and the coma were worth it every time. 

but now, here tonight, not the right moment. how to politely decline? i could think of no excuse which would take me off the hook lightly. R. would make fun of me, and if he wouldn´t i was sure Maiko would.  i decided i would fake it. i took the little parcel, went to the bathroom, took a little bit out and flushed it. just put an fraction of it on my left nostril, and then wiped it away to make it appear realistic. when i came back the club was even more crowded. boys and girls had joined the dancefloor. Maiko was gabbing at R. And R. just looked at me. Coming from the bathroom towards him. sitting down next to them. folding my hands in my lap, then, being so uncomfortable by the constant scan of R, i took another glass of cremant and lit a cigarette for my other hand. 

The music became louder, the beat paced up. Maiko got up and started dancing, chatting to no girl in particular, whilst moving.

I smoked. R. said: "the meeting has gone really well."

"yes, Maiko told me."

"he and i really work well together."

"i am glad to hear."

there was some kind of rupture in the movements on the dancefloor. all of a sudden a group of people disentangled themselves from the crowd: one guy smashed another guy on a table next to where we were sitting. a girl was cheerleading the guy who had pushed the other. Maiko rushed to us, exited: "A fight!" we looked at the fight, as if it was none of our concern at first.  i just sat there and let it all happen.  i saw the guy just going on in a frenzy, pounding, pushing hitting. He looked like a regular office clerk, wannabe yuppie, dark hair, normal height. the guy on the table had a blue and white striped t-shirt on. a sort of sailor shirt. his ear was bleeding, the blood drizzled on his shirt. His head was turned facing us. i saw his fear. 

i wondered when the security would come to break this mess off. no one came. the audience had turned away from them, apart from the girl who was now hysterically encouraging her boyfriend to kill the victim. Maiko had returned to the dancefloor. R. looked at the whole scene with disgust. The guy on the table still had his face towards us, one eye was closed, bleeding. the other eye was looking just passed us. The girl took a glass and smashed it, she gestured with the broken glass to her boyfriend, for him to take it. 

I jumped up, ran to the girl and took the glass out of her hand. I heard myself shouting at the two of them that they should stop immediately that i was so shocked that i had never ever seen such a brutal misbehaviour. i wrenched my body between the two guys. it seemed to help, but then the girl started accusing me of being a complete idiot and i should mind my own business. her boyfriend told her that it was ok. i said they should really just stop and leave.  another girl came standing next to the girlfriend and started screaming at me as well: how on earth did i get the idea of defending that bastard? i became  scared. what if they would use the glass on me? i tried to keep talking in a clear voice, not having them sense my fear. I said it was an outrage, that they looked like sensible people, how could they do such a horrendous deed. Then  Maiko was beside me and said: "guys, you have had your fun, now just go home ok?" they were silent, as if thinking, then decided to actually listened to him and left. i was trembling all over. maiko lead me to our table.  the guy with the blooddrenched shirt got up and stumbled to the bathroom without looking at us. i wanted to go after him to ask if he was ok but Maiko pushed me down into my chair. "just a ballroom brawl, they are drunk." R. said: Why did you jump into that fight?" 

"i don´t know." 

"you should never do that. it could get you into trouble." 

The crowd partied on and i sat there.  Maiko went back onto the dancefloor, to sometimes come back for another go at the vodkabottle, joking around with R. who would amicably reply. I did not want to talk, but i was not asked anything by either of them. Finally their bottle was empty and i was allowed to go back to the hotel with them. we picked up our coats. I saw the guy with the striped t-shirt leave. he had washed his face, but still looked terrible. his left eye was shut tight and had some kind of sachet of blood hanging underneath, or maybe it was his eye, it looked as if it was cut loose. he rushed by us, didnt acknowledge any of his surroundings, as if he was ashamed.  Maiko tipped the wardrobe girl and tried to chat her up. We waited until he was finished trying and then left.

It was freezing outside. we liked the cold air and decided we would walk to the hotel, unless we would get too cold. We would go and eat wurst. that was what the Germans do afterall, eat wurst. Frankfurter wurst. But they are called Wiener wurst in Frankfurt. We went to the wurst stand. we heard the shouts. It was so strange, i recognised the voices immediately. the guy was shouting: "how does that feel? huh? you know what it feels like now?  you will never forget." the victim was howling in pain. i heard a crashing sound. we ran towards the noise. The guy in the striped t-shirt was on the pavement. The other guy was jumping on his knees. his girlfriend standing beside him, she was silent, just looking. her expression was almost of a sexual delight. i got a feeling that beating people up and watching it was some sort of a nihilist cult for them. i froze up. i couldn't handle it anymore.

this time R. shouted. just one word. "hey!" he walked towards them. slowly. the couple looked at the three of us and ran away. R. stopped a cabdriver and told him to call an ambulance. he then continued to walk, halted another cab and told me to get in. 

"what about that guy?" 

"Maiko will stay with him, dont worry, we just have to go home now." 

in the taxi i said that i was sorry. 

"what are you sorry about?" 

"i dont even know. i think i just say Imo sorry because i dont know what to say." 

"so no story tonight then?" 

"would that be allright?"

"no story tonight.  i will call you when i need you next time ok, should be some time in the new year, January, February."

we took the elevator to our rooms. when i walked to my room R took my upper left arm and pinched it. he smiled.

I packed my luggage and waited long enough to be able to halfway breathe, took a taxi to the airport and waited for 4 hours until i could board.