Tuesday, October 13, 2015

Just Another Tale of Just Another Bar

The first thing I want to do is tell you all about Seeheim and the Lufthansa training center, but I think that is going to wait for the end of the week. Let me finish the training out and I'll tell you all about this hotel and this cute little town.

However, let me tell you about this one little bar on the edge of Seemeim. I was going to go to a different town today, but it seemed like everything was going wrong, so I decided just to come back to the hotel and actually, finally get a good night's sleep for the first time this week. I found Holz Street on the way back so I decided to stop by to snag a picture (which I didn't actually get....)

I saw this bar. I was hungry I guess....mostly I just had to go pee and I wanted to sit down. So I waltz in wearing my American flag backpack and my camera around my neck. I mean, could I be any more of a tourist??? The first step into the bar I immediately had to start breathing through my mouth because the stench of old man was so strong. To be fair, it wasn't a large bar and there were four men sitting at it. Through the night, as more and more patrons came in, the only women there were me and the bartender. I sat down and asked her what the best beer was. She just kinda shrugged and asked if wanted a Pilsner or a wheat beer. I chose Heffeweizen and ordered some spazel.

The tension in the atmosphere was damn near palpable. I couldn't tell if it was because I came in looking like the worlds biggest tourist, if it was because they just didn't know me, or because I was female and the youngest in there by at least 20 years. Either way I settled down with my beer and waited for my food. After finally finding the women's bathroom hiding right behind me (because who cranes around behind them when you are trying to subtly look for the bathrooms?) I hopped off the barstool and walked right into a pitch dark bathroom. One of the patrons at the end of the bar started bellowing for the bartender, who had slipped out behind the kitchen to smoke, to come turn the light on. I mean, who would have thought the damn switch was behind the bar? Come on. After a little chuckle at my expense, they all seemed to lighten up about me.

I returned to my spot and the food as the bar started to fill up with old men. They started to get louder and joke around. One man was ragging on the bartender about how much women talk or something. She'd look at me as if to say "men! Amiright?" I'd smile and nod, happy to be a part of the conversation. As it came time to pay I totally blanked on how to tip. So I asked her, in German, how the heck that worked again. I prefaced that with saying something along the lines of me being a stupid American tourist and how it must have slipped my mind.

This was the point that got everyone's attention. They didn't notice I was American (score!) Heck, they didn't even notice I wasn't German (double score!) I started getting peppered with questions about where I was from, what was I doing there, what airport do I work at. They started regaling me win stories of their kids who had gone to America that one time. I ended up shouting "Denver, Colorado" across the bar like four times because everyone was getting interested in where we were talking about and they were all old and couldn't hear.

You know that feeling of falling in love? The one where you keep playing moments over in your head. You have a smile plastered to your fave that you can't seem to knock off. People probably think you're insane because you can't stop giggling at random times. You feel like dancing home instead of walking.
Well that's the exact feeling I get every time I chat with Germans and they don't realize I'm not one of them. This means that five years and one study abroad program is worth every cent and all the time put into it.

I may have giggled all the way home....

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