So I started to write this post just about the naked showering part but then totally got lost in the crazier part of it which is the back story and so this is going to have to be a two-part series.
Part I. Meeting the Crazy the Germans Should Have Kept (or sent to camp)
Here we go.
It was our second day in Paris and we were in our fourth watering hole of the afternoon/evening, regrouping after two other friends we had just been with left when the boys and I starting discussing the potential of our exotic looking French waitress.
“She’s beautiful,” we all raved, blatantly staring and smiling like creeps, much like you would at a petting zoo if you were all starry-eyed over a deer or something. Except that most people don’t get starry-eyed over deer but whatever.
“She should be a runway model.” The boys were still gazing. I suggested we tell her. She came over to refill our drinks and so I asked her, “Has anyone ever told you that you should be a model?” I imagined this type of compliment would be fantastic, but she looked confused which really just meant she didn’t speak English. Obviously I broke into my best German charades and walked two fingers down and back on the palm of my hand while circling my face with my pointer finger while saying slowly, “Mooooooooodeeeellllll.” Nothing. The girl just half smiled like, right, whackjob, and walked away.
“I’ll tell her if you want,” said the quiet man at the end of the line of booths we were sitting in. He had been reading a book and hadn’t bothered us once and now that was obviously going to change.
“Yes, please do,” we offered and he countered with, “She is beautiful. I come in once a week to watch her and she doesn’t know it.” Well, isn’t that the creepiest thing I had heard all day. Nice. Now one of us might die tonight, I thought.
“Can I talk to you,” he carried on and I should have known better to say yes but he seemed genuinely happy to be speaking to Americans, something I rarely encounter.
Then he launched into a whole bunch of bullshit that made my ears bleed. First he started to tell me some story about how the Germans kidnapped him when he was four and at first I was excited like, OH YESSSSS PERFECT! German kidnappings, love it. What sort of evil shit were they up to in this story but then I was bored because who haven’t they kidnapped? Plus that story included no violence or things involving torture so I was all, YEAH RIGHT, crazy man, MOVE ON.
Then the story moved on to his first out-of-body experience which didn’t include enough about actual death or being too close to the light and so again, I hated the story, so I started texting and gazing off longingly at the half filled booze bottles.
From there he carried on with how he’s had people fill his body and he can see through their eyes and it’s truly an amazing blabbity fucking psycho experience and at this point all I was thinking was YOU ARE LYING and I just sighed loudly and turned to the boys only to notice that both young saps were leaning forward with their hands on their chins and mouths open, nodding like they believe every mother fucking word that was being shit out of this man’s mouth.
I wanted to smash something and so I texted the Mr. and demanded he call me and after accepting said phone call I took a ten minute break from crazyville outside only to return to hear more of this nonsense continuing so I finally just announced that we had to go re-meet the friend that had left now two hours before because that makes no sense but I needed to get the fuck out of the psych ward before my head exploded.
Not before I kindly offered, “Sir. You look quite normal and you seem very nice but has anyone ever told you that you sound out of your fucking mind crazy? No offense.” Because that obviously made my question much nicer.
“Yes, some people have, but I don’t mind. I care about the experience, the energy, how things work in the world, the mixing of beings…” I stopped listening at mixing of beings, stood up abruptly, put on my coat and announced loudly, “Wrap it up, it’s really time for us to be going.” And unapologetically, I pushed out the door. I should note that was AFTER an email exchange which would hopefully go NOWHERE because I would rather not have that man pollute Kyle and Bryan’s brains with his shit talk anymore. They have enough fun stuff swimming around in those brains of theirs. They did not need his world energy nonsense, though it did sound like stuff someone would enjoy say if they believe in all that hippie nonsense.
Not that I know anyone like that. Moving on.
After leaving that bar, I was beyond agitated because while I am slightly touched myself, I cannot be bothered to entertain people who belong in homes, unless I am provoking them, which I tend to only do in my own country where I understand the laws and the language about abusing people.
“I need a fucking drink,” I announced as I looked for the next suitable establishment because surely the twelve white wines I had just consumed were clearly not enough.
And then I saw it. Blue lights pulsating in the windows, techno music flowing out into the streets and lasers. There was a goddamned laser show and black lights.
“This is it,” I told the boys and we all walked in.
And as I looked around, I found myself in a dream. And by dream I mean a sea of hot and topless and hungry men.
Well la dee da.