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Everyone is permitted to copy and distribute verbatim copies of this document without a fee, provided that the person conspicuously and appropriately publishes on each copy the appropriate copyright notice and these terms and conditions for copying, distribution, and modifications. Changing this document or charging a fee for distribution or using this document for a financial profit is not allowed. Including this document in a publication that is for sale is not permitted.

This document solely expresses the author's current opinions. It in no way expresses the opinion of any other legal entity. This document does not claim to be correct, complete, or factual. Reading it is at your own risk.

Copyright © 1995 by Martin Klima. All rights reserved.

Dec. 20, 1995

A trip to Europe: Four bars in two nights

(or: What really happened)

by

Martin Klima

Introductory note by Manfred:
A friend of mine wrote this excellent spoof on "Four Countries in a Weekend". The parody is certainly better than the original. Since I don't want to be the only one to suffer from short breath due to severe laughing cramps I cannot keep this from you. Thanks Martin. Here it goes.

TERMS AND CONDITIONS FOR COPYING, DISTRIBUTION AND MODIFICATION

Noone is permitted to copy and distribute verbatim copies of this document, because it is the intellectual property of the author (the only one, however), except the author is paid a good fee and provided that anyone is interested at all. Changing this document would be a good idea, but please don't let anybody know that I am the creator of this nonsense. Distributing this document for a financial profit is very wellcome, here is my account: 08 15 / 4711

This document solely expresses the author's current opinions. It in no way expresses the opinion of any other legal entity, but of an illegal one (my brother, the co-author, is in prison). This document does not claim to be correct, complete, or factual - to tell the truth, it's all lies. Reading it is at your own risk and may cause brain damage.

Copyright (c) 1995 by ... who cares? All rights reserved.

Should you wish to punish the author we do understand, we've been looking for him for a long time. So if you meet him, give him some kicks in the name of "The Society for Fighting the Foolishness in the World" as well. Thanks. Would you like to share your own madness, please don't, or at best send email to your own address.

Hi, Manfred !

Hey man, what the f... happened to you? Writing to us about Europe in some days making us horny with the story's title and then boaring us to death with 750 years old gothic fishermen in a drugstore, or so. I really felt the blood go to my head, when reading about Alexandra and you in front of the TV (probably watching some hardcore video) to avoid the cold weather outside. WOW !! I was sooo hot ! And what did YOU do? Tellin' us about her German skills on your way to Trier. Unbelievable!

We do know you better, you scamp! And, as YOU don't come out with the truth, WE proudly present:

A trip to Europe: Four bars in two nights

(or: What really happened)

by

Manfred's friends (or at least one of them)

You didn't really think one could do four bars in two nights. But you don't know my liver. After all, remember I'm an Austrian. It all started in Belgium. I woke up in a police car with barred windows, face down to the ground. We were on our way from Brussels to the borders, where - I was going to find out - they kicked me off the country, because I had joined Meneken Piss when I felt yesterday's beers burning. After all, remember I'm an American. That's how I came to Luxembourg, not by plane, not by train, not by car, not by foot, just by kick of a police officer. Low on money, as usual, I hitch-hiked all the way down to Luxembourg City. Unfortunately the only one to stop was a big truck carrying a lot of pigs from France to Germany to slaughter them, then further on to Italy for making saussages and Wiener Schnitzel (after all, remember I'm an Austrian) and finally to Spain an Portugal for selling them (ever heard of the EC ?). In the driver's cab the seat was taken - he had his dog in companion - so I was glad the driver opened the back door and let me in. The pigs were nice and friendly - by the way, did you know that a pig's snout feels smooth and tender when you are alone 2000 lightyears from home? - and shared their food with me. It was made of little starch and many antibiotics. It tasted somewhat chemical, but it was free.

In Luxembourg City the driver opened the back door again to let me out, without stopping the truck. It was already late in the afternoon, so it was time for the newspaper. I decided to buy the Le Monde because of its large format. You know, public toilets' floors are cold in autumn. In the backstreets of Luxembourg City I found several bars that looked alright for having a drink or two (or some more). I entered a place called "The dirty hole". There was nobody in, but the barmaid - and me of course. The bar was worthy its name. I had to push down some rubbish from the chair next to the juke box. I put a coin into the box and chose that ole song, that we always used to play in those days noone can remember: "Hrsn, ghsaal pfrrt jksd". It's a sad, old traditional of Austrian kangaroo herdsman telling about the risks of inflation, the Dow Jones Index and the kick you get from driving a Mercedes Benz. The juke box turned out to be broken since 1968. My coin was still in there, so as I raised my eyebrows for a hard look on the barmaid, she quickly served me a glass of gin on my own bill. Without being invited she took a chair close to me. Within seconds she was behind the bar again, I guess she didn't like my rare pig-truck-perfume. Gin by gin I got that feeling I like so much. It's like one is flying without loosing ground, like increasing speed of a motorcycle on the Baya California, like drinking low-quality alcohol and get drunk.

The day already dawned, but how could I notice, I was still sleeping. When I finally woke up I had a bad taste on my tongue. The stranger on the floor in front of the bed turned out to be Alexandra, the barmaid from "The dirty hole". She saved me from the police who wanted to kick me off the country because of vagrancy. She took me up to her flat, but couldn't manage to bring herself to bed anymore.

It was time for breakfast - actually 3 p.m. is the best time for having breakfast. I went to the grocer's just around the corner, to get a six pack bud. Back at Alex' I had to rest for an hour or two, relaxing from the tough job carrying five budweisers up to the first floor - I have to admit, that one was already finished when I left the grocer's. The air is very dry in Europe and the desert in my throat would need some irrigation, so the five others followed soon. Alex was a nice girl, she had arranged the breakfast table by palcing the dirty laundry in the bathroom and lightning us two Marlboros. Smoking our little dope she told me that she took some credit out of the bar's cashbox, and that she was not too much thinking about giving it back.

We had about an hour to leave the country, before the bar would open again at 5 p.m. So we made it into Germany, driving an old lady's car, which she had left unlocked in front of the hairdresser's.

With Alexandra's language skills (she could say "another beer, please" in more than two languages!) we were well armed for the coming night. And it was coming soon. We had some bucks in our pocket (at least in Alexandra's) so we didn't hesitate to take a comfortable room at a hotel (soap and towel we got together with the key). Looking through the only window of our suite we could get some international flair, watching the Intercity train to Cologne passing by. The bar of the railway station was not too bad. They offered beer and a door that would be open till 3 a.m. Only the rattle of the whole building with every train passing the station made us feel sick.

So we moved over to the "Red Flamingo", a wicked place filled with a lot of wicked people. We had some whiskeys there and a little trouble with some local heroes who didn't like the song we wanted the juke box to play (you know which one). It wasn't too bad, Alex took me out by time, she knew the dangerous raising of my eyebrows (which were a little bit swollen now).

Back at the hotel we were little happy to see the police looking for the drivers of the stolen car parked in front of the hotel. We decided not to surrender, but (to justify the story's title) piss off to France for our fourth bar.

By foot and through the woods (Schengen has not been ratified yet) we finally made it. For those of you who have not been to France yet, you have not missed too much. All that culture and French, everywhere and everyone French. Aaaarrrggghhll !! What was left? Little money that was to be spent. A ticket back to the states and one more bar before dawn. I left Alexandra back with the dwarfs in the woods, who demanded a toll for passing their territory. And what should I do ? After all, I had to get rid of her before the end of the story and she was out of money!

Five beers in a local restaurant kept me from dying of dehydration.

What a trip. Four countries touched and a lot of trouble caused. Not bad, I felt like in the early days. Drinking with a companion certainly also beats drinking by oneself. Learning the country, its police and a person at the same time. Life couldn't be better.

    

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