+++Well well, there have been things, that have not been said, stories, that are yet to be told.
For one, I met with my „band“, „Arbitrary Reasoning“ on Friday. I use quotation marks, because they are cool and because at this point we are only three people: Leif (drums), David (Guitar) and me (Vocals, harmonica, stage bitch).
Because Leif lives in Hanover and we planned to practice in his house David and I met at the train station in Burgdorf. He greeted me with the words “do you have some money on you?”.
I opened my wallet and found some pennies, adding up to 2€ and somewhat like 1$, that I still had from America.
“Why?”, I asked.
“Well,” he replied “I just found out that my student card has no value during the holidays. But I have a ticket for one zone, that should bring me to Lehrte.”
So we entered the train, not knowing if those two bucks would be enough to buy him a ticket for the rest of the way (I already had my ticket).
So after a way too short while during which we debated how to solve this problem we arrived in Lehrte. Now, let me say some things about Lehrte. With me and my folks in Burgdorf, Lehrte is only known as “Zombiestadt” - “Zombie town”, because only the most rotten and fucked up people enter or leave the train there. Plus the train station is absolutely rotten itself. So is the entire town. And there is nothing that would give someone an excuse to live there. Just like Britain.
Anyhow, we left the train and went down the stairs, looking for a ticket vending machine. Confusing signs with only pictures but no words on them mislead us around a little so we ended up at a counter of the Deutsche Bahn (the federal train company), waiting 15 minutes on a women to get done with her business, because she was talking to the guy on the counter about how she always wanted to go to Budapest and was now able to because of the ticket she just purchased. Yeah. Uhuh. Whatever.
Anyhow, David got impatient (our train left some time while we were standing there) and began wandering around. He came back to me and told me, that he found a ticket vending machine somewhere in the tunnels under the train station. So we walked down there and entered “Hanover Karl-Wiechert-Allee”, which was our final destination.
It said 3.30€. We said: “crap”.
Well then we just bought a ticket for one zone, for 2€. But the machine did not take the 1 and 2 cent coins, which brought us to the situation, that we were 5 cents short and had to ask some random guy who walked by for 5 cents, offering him an American quarter dollar.
Well he gave us the 5 cents, we took the ticket and walked upstairs to the train station again and got the stamping machine to stamp the ticket. Unfortunately the zone ends right after Lehrte. So the ticket was absolutely worthless for us. In fear of controllers David just hid in the bathroom and I watched his guitar and his amp.
Yeah. What a magical freaking tale.
The Saturday following was not any less interesting. My drama group had a summer fest (last year I was there with Scott and Smeagol and Amelia). So we met for BBQ, but before that we were going to go on a guided tour through Burgdorf with an actor who played Wicken-Thies, a historical person from my hometown.
He was a foreteller and into all kinds of esoteric stuff. For example he saw the great fires coming. And they did. And he got beaten up for it, of course. Or he knew, that some day there would be cars without horses, moving on an incredible speed over the main street. He was right. Today, there are cars. Also he said, that only those, who could afford it would be able to ride them. With todays gas prices, even that was right.
Anyhow, later the BBQ started and of course the drinking started as well. Oliver, a nice guy in his... uhm... I think his forties always handed me a beer, when mine was empty. And he always did it with a smiling face, nodding at me. “Drink”, he said.
My tongue got loose and I began talking a lot, especially about Wacken, which I am going to attend soon. That was a bad idea. Because then I couldnt just say “hey, I dont wanna drink anymore”, because everyone said stuff like “well you survived Wacken, then you gotta be able to drink some more!”.
It was awful. I ended up back home, drunk as hell, lying on the grass, watching the stars, listening to Pink Floyd and Alice Cooper. Woah.
Well the next morning I got kicked out of bed at 7, which I disliked. We drove up north to my grandma, which I disliked even more, because I am usually not good with old people (neither am I good with very young people, must be because of their similarities) and because I don't like sleeping in the car. Also I had the feeling that I didn't shower for a week or so. Something always kept me from it and if it is just the fact, that I have to sit to wash my hair.
Grandma was in a real good condition, at least in my eyes and it was fun to talk to her and listen to the stories she makes up. The only thing that really was unpleasent were my parents, who couldnt just play and let it go. I mean, she is demented. She does not understand much anymore, so you just got to let her go. It reminded me a lot of Chief Bromden in “One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest”.
After that we drove to her house (she lives in an Old folks home, just about two or three miles from her house away) and threw out a lot of the furniture because we wanted to offer one of the rooms for rent, which was impossible with all that 50's crap in there.
Yeah, that's about it.