What Do I Do Now?

     So as I left off, I arrived in Germany with some cash burning a hole in my pocket, little responsibility, and a whole slew or academic bores, at least a quarter of whom also turned out to be unbearably pretentious, a feature much more common within the women of the group.  I am not implying that one is cause for the other, merely making an observation.  Now, there were a couple exception among the crowd, two in particular.  Let's surreptitiously name them Ernie and Val.  Both of these gentleman were a little older than myself and pursuing PhD's.  Ernie had already spent a substantial amount of time living abroad and completed his MS in Europe.  He was fluent in a language aside from English and was determined to make the same advancement in German.  I and Val were both quite novice in comparison with Ernie, linguistically speaking.  Neither of us had any formal German lessons and so we were both in the lowest level of the four offered; Ernie was in the highest.  In the beginning Ernie refused to speak any English in his venture to master German and Val and I had no chance to have an appreciable conversation with him in German.  With that said, Ernie will play a smaller role in my story, for the time being.  Val and I, on the other hand, became friends rather quickly.  He became the one person to whom I would reach out when I wanted to go on a weekend bender (which normally started about Wednesday).  As any reasonable person would and should do, he often rejected the idea of going out as frequently as I would have liked, after all we did have class every day beginning at 9 AM.  Although I didn't blame him I was also frustrated.  I had quickly learned that reaching out to any of the others was nothing more than a waste of time and a call for them to judge my decisions and question how the hell I even received the fellowship in the first place.  Furthermore, the town in which we lived was quite small.  There were beautiful areas to walk and small, specialty shops lined the cobblestone paths.  This, however, did mean that there were few places to throw down.  There were a handful of tame bars and maybe two "clubs" (although I do feel strange assigning that designation, for what they really were does not resemble a club as one might expect).  I was at a loss.  I arrived excited for a wild time with others that would see this opportunity in a similar light and so far I felt my expectations were betrayed.  Sure, we had a couple parties every few weekends and I did drag Val out to find some honnies to mack on but it was NOT what I envisioned.  I was fortunate enough to find a couple guys on my floor that had some hash they didn't need so I bought what I could and rolled myself some spliffs for whenever I was bored.  As you might guess, I was high most of each day until I ran out, which didn't take very long.

    Fast forward through the depressing day-in and day-out monotony of class, throw in a few field trips to some gorgeous German towns, and finally we approach a story worth telling.  We were probably half-way into our language course and Ernie must have gotten bored as hell.  Over time, through group activities, Ernie realized he would fit in well with Val and myself.  Eventually, he decided that he was missing out on too much by being so damn committed to the German language.  At this point, I had become moderately conversational, but the sad truth is that I didn't (and really still don't) have much of a personality when speaking German; I felt like a drone.  It was incredibly frustrating because I am extremely animated, overly sarcastic, and rarely serious, none of which is easy to deliver when your fumbling around in your own head, digging for word choice for which you might actually be able to produce a reasonable translation.  Ernie often told me (natürlich, auf Deutsch) how impressed he was with how quickly I learned the language but my dis-impassioned delivery was a clear flag that if he wanted to have some fun, he would have to be more flexible.

     One night, Ernie and I were out to dinner with a few of the others waiting to greet another grant recipient, one who was not enrolled in the language course.  As it turns out, she was already fluent in German and actually has family in the town in which we were living.  Naturally, she knew what would make a fun night.  Most of the other snores went home immediately after dinner, while a couple stayed for a few drinks, but at the end of the night (which was really the beginning for me) only myself, Ernie, and our new tour guide were left.  This new girl suggested that we go to a bar off the beaten path.  I was initially reluctant, not because I didn't want to go out, but because I wanted to have a shit storm of a time and a little bar didn't sound like the place to go.  Well, I wasn't wrong.  It wasn't a shit storm but it sure was a night I'll never forget...this is the story of the outlaw biker bar in a small German city.  Stay tuned...

Moving to Germany

     I arrived in Germany at the beginning of August.  I was part of an intensive German language course in a city in Hessen.  During this time, I had very little responsibility since my research would not begin for another two months.  I had about 2 large sitting in my US bank account from what I had been saving while I was bouncing and some extra I received for my graduation, birthday and as a "going away" present, all of which happened to land within two months.  On top of this, I was to receive a modest stipend paid in two installment for the duration of the course.  Given the competitiveness of the fellowship, and the fact that most of the recipients had only just completed their bachelors degrees, I was surrounded by a very different crowd that I am used to and from all different parts of the country.  These were high achievers, straight-laced like something from a bad D.A.R.E. video.  I had spent a few years living like this.  It even cost me a girlfriend of 4 years.  When we met, I was fun and exciting but by the end I was a reclusive workaholic.  C'est la vie.  However, by the time I arrived in Germany...this wasn't my crew.

     Having been living in a large city and working in "the industry" I was used to a much different type of person.  I had recently become accustomed to getting out of work a bit after 2 in the morning, just in time to pop over to the after-hours bar with other industry workers to mingle with the street-walkers, pimps, and drug dealers (no exaggeration).  We'd have a few drinks and chase it with a quick line in the bathroom before heading back to a friends house for more drinks, more lines, and a few fat bowls.  We'd call it quits around 6 or 7 and then spend the rest of the day detoxing before rinsing and repeating.  Now obviously this wasn't a sustainable lifestyle while I was working on my MS thesis.  While I was finishing school, my days and nights were usually more tame, with the exception of the glorious stretch from Friday afternoon to Monday afternoon.  I didn't have any classes scheduled in the morning (at least not that I attended) and I was already done with my research.  All I had left was to take a few exams, do a homework assignment every once in a while, write my goddamned thesis, throw up a few plates in the gym, and check some ID's a few nights a week.  Most of those days were spent in a haze of skunky smoke while I watched some stupid shit on Netflix and avoided my thesis like the plague.  It was heavenly.  I was able to maintain this right up until graduation, at which point I still had another 2 weeks to submit my, as of yet, barely-started thesis.  This was the "oh shit" time and the story of those two weeks is very boring and centers around my laptop and a mountain of Chinese take-out containers.  Needless to say, when I finally submitted my 85 page capstone, I was ready to go nuts and that's exactly what I did.

     At this point, my responsibilities had further rarefied.  For the following 2 months my days were focused around the bar I worked in and the bars my friends worked in.  We had an "I scratch your back, you scratch mine" arrangement and we'd pop around so that no manager would get concerned that they would be losing too much money in hand-outs.  Everyone in the industry knows that it goes on, but it needs to be internally regulated among the benefactors and beneficiaries.  If a manager has to say something, you can almost guarantee that bar was gonna be scratched from the weekly rotation.  I picked up a few more shifts at the bar to make some extra money and flirt with the hostesses, servers, and customers.  I loved being at work.  Any person that walked in the door had to talk to me.  We got our fair share of assholes but it was well worth the freedom to flirt with any pretty little thing that crossed my path.  The work was easy on most nights, consisting of checking ID's, watching tables we suspected might try to walk on their check, and keeping areas of high foot-traffic free for employees.  Plus, the bouncer is the guy all the other frustrated employees go to.  We acted as a confidant and gave a sense of security.  We were also mostly just standing watch and so we were free to entertain the other employees when they got a bit bored.  Naturally, it was a shit-ton (metric) of fun and it was pretty easy pickins on the female employees.  I won't say the majority were great options.  Some were in committed relationships, some were lesbians, and some you wouldn't want to stick with a ten foot Festivus pole, but there were a few and I pulled a couple away for fun when the rest of the party died including a server, a hostess, and even one of my manager's sisters.  Anyway, I digress.

     So at this point, I was free to fuck off as much as I pleased most hours of the day.  I lived on the outskirts of campus and seldom woke before 2 or 3 in the afternoon, having not hit my bed until most people were starting their day.  I never had so much fun before and I didn't want it to stop.  I decided that I couldn't let it stop.  I was about to be leaving for Europe and this was the perfect chance.  I am still young and have not yet made the plunge to the "real" world.  I am in limbo.  I'm no longer a completely broke college student and I am not yet a corporate drone.  If only the company they sent me here with wasn't such a damn drag...

Preface

     In order to conceal my true identity, I will be brief and vague about my background.  I am an American living abroad on the most prestigious international fellowship offered by the US government and have also just begun working on a PhD.  I am 23 and just graduated cum laude with distinguished honors for both my BS and MS in mechanical engineering from a major research university in a large, east-coast city.  So far the image you should have is of a proper and professional academic.  If you wish to keep that image and were hoping to read about an upstanding American with his nose to the grindstone in an international setting, read no more. I have, thus far, spared you the insidious truth and will do so no further.

     My professional life is just a means to an ends and its landed me in Germany for the next 4 years while I conduct the research that will confer me the title of "doctor." This is a situation with which I could not be happier, and serves as my motivation for creating this blog.  You see, I have just been given a golden ticket to satiate my primal interests and all on the US and German taxpayers' dollar.  For this, I thank each and every one of you for bankrolling my European adventures and misadventures.  At this point, it should be apparent that I am not the uptight or sheltered academic one might be liable to conjecture based on paragraph one.  I have no interest in being professional once I shut down my work station and I have no interest in blogging about my work.  My primary goal is to have a blast and to live with no regrets.  THIS is what I want to share.

     As this blog will be maintained in anonymity,  I should include a brief description of myself so that you may understand about whom you are reading.  Physically, I am muscular and kempt, developed from 13 years of wrestling and 7 years of weight-training.  My scarred face and crooked nose, earned in a street fight, offset my charismatic allure with a little danger and mystery.  The six inch scar across my stomach has a similar effect and I love to use it playfully.  I entertain multiple origins in the name of a good tease.  My favorite is to tell the girl that has just removed my shirt an enigmatic truth...that she should make up her own story, as it is sure to be better than mine.  To capture my attitude, I asked several people to rattle off some adjectives that would paint a picture of myself to someone that has never had the pleasure of forming their own impression.  Before I moved to Germany, I was working as a bouncer.  A few of the girls I was fucking from this particular establishment described me as cocky, brazen, persistent, dominant, a dick, pretty narcissistic, and short-tempered.  Others have described me as obnoxiously intelligent, arrogantly self-absorbed, strong-willed, hard-headed, and even a little scary.  I've been given an NC-17 rating for the great pleasure I take in the corruption and destruction of innocence. After all, the world is not an innocent place and it would be a fool's errand to attempt to shelter and preserve something as ill-fated as chastity and probity. With that said, I am not a monster.  It has simply befit me to show those particular traits for one reason or another at various times.  I am deceptively debonair and frightfully charming.  A direct quote from one woman with whom I was sleeping may paint a better picture than I could.  She described me as "someone who seems to have an attachment and respect for people he cares about and a huge heart. You have passion and determination and a sense of self-worth and confidence that makes other people want to be better and accomplish more things when they are around you."  I can mix any variety of these characteristics to best suit my environment and company.  I have a penchant for reading people and I use it for my benefit.  One might say I am manipulative.  I couldn't deny the accusation but I would urge my accuser to recognize that individualism and ethical egoism are fundamental to human nature, curbed only my societal nurture.  My heart is not cold. It has loved deeply.  BUT...I am young, I am single and I have been given a free ride to enjoy a European adventure and that adventure is what I hope to chronicle within this blog.

     As I have decided to start this blog a bit late, I will soon post a bit more of a lifestyle prelude and follow it up with an interesting experience I have already had with the largest 1%'er motorcycle club in Germany.  After that, I intend to make no effort to post regularly.  My posting will be impromptu and based on my time and whether or not I have anything potentially entertaining to describe.  Enjoy...