Pure Slush

flash ... without the wank

Wien

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by Meg Tuite             A Vegetarian in Texas  >

 

“Dear Charlene,

You can’t believe the hell we’re raising right now in Munich. And the guys! Fireworks!!! Oh man, it’s never ending. Sooooo many great stories to tell. Miss you like a blister (Ha, ha), Love, Bea and Tam.”

Tamara and I spent most of our time in Munich staring at a map that never took us where we wanted to go, playing cards in empty pubs and eating brat and sausage no matter what we ordered on any menu.

“Dear Therese,

Oh my God, this place is heaven. We’re in Firenze and we got off the train and had to close our eyes because the people here are so damn beautiful, it’s distorted! We are doing the espresso bars by day and Stefanos and Francescos by night. Wish you were here. Love B & T.” 

It’s true, the population was dumbfoundingly pretty, but we walked the streets and talked of the great bagels we couldn’t get in a place that had the most outrageous food and bottles of Pinot Grigio for four bucks, while sleazy, fat men and boys followed us grabbing our asses and spitting obscenities between missing teeth.

“Dear Laurie,

It’s been one damn adventure after another. We’re on our way to Venice now and believe me, this is heaven! We’re staying in palace after palace! It’s like another century over here. And the nightlife! You can’t believe the guys we’ve met. We’ve got photos to prove it. Hope you’re having a great summer! You’ll have to come with us on the next trip! Love, B & T.” 

We got lost every day we were in Venice, moving from tiny little alleys into huge open piazzas. We took a photo with any cute guy we found who said “Si, si, foto, si…” so we could make up stories about the lusty things we did with him, although once in a while the guy was game and we were too afraid to take him on. The first place we stayed in had fleas and cots with half an inch of foam for a mattress. Not exactly a palace.

And finally, Vienna or Wien. We were passed out in one of the train compartments when we heard the doors slide open to the sound of screeching wheels and chugging tracks. We both opened our eyes and saw the whitest girl we’d ever seen step into the room. She had raven black hair with black bangs that stopped just short of her dead eyes. She was skinny-long as an eel wearing black tight jeans and a black tee-shirt. Tamara and I both glanced at each other and then watched as the girl stretched out her long stork legs on to the empty chair directly across from her and laid her head back, closed her eyes and crossed her arms across her chest like she was bedding down in a coffin for the night. I stared at her face, drained of blood, whenever I woke up. She was always in the same position, face still as a stone.

In the morning, Tamara and I woke up before the lifeless girl and sat whispering, arguing whether she was a vampire or a zombie. Just as the train approached Vienna, before any whistles or announcements had been made, the eel-girl opened her eyes, lifted her head up, with arms still crossed, and bellowed “Wiennnnnnnn,” and looked out the window with complete lack of emotion on her bone-hued face. Tamara and I screamed and stared at her in horror. She didn’t even glance our way as she snatched up her bag and marched out of the compartment. 

We ate lunch at some café that gave us a view of the ornate buildings and the trolley that passed through the middle of Liebenstraße. We pointed to something interesting on the menu in German and ended up with brat and kraut. At least the beer was good. This time two fairly decent looking guys with all their teeth sat down to talk with us. They were in a band and asked if we’d go to their performance that night. Yes, yes, yes! They gave us a flyer and directions. We were beyond excited to have an adventure developing in Wien.

We spent the evening deciding which outfits to wear, getting drunk on cheap beer. By the time we got out, we’d forgotten the directions so we shoved the flyer into various stranger’s faces and they’d move us a few straßes further until finally we spotted the club. 

We went up to the bar. Everyone was drinking dark-colored wine. The bartender told us it was, “coke and red wine – the drink of Wien.” What else would vampires drink? We ordered two. They were nasty. But after about three glasses, they started to taste okay. The band was heavy metal. People were bashing all over the dance floor. Tamara and I joined in, throwing ourselves into people, waving to our guitar-blasting guys. 

When their set was over the guys, Jan and Fredrick, took us outside to smoke hash. Things were starting to spin at this point. Tamara and Fredrick went off in to darkness. Jan and I sat on a curb, started making out. We were too wasted to do much more. Jan went inside to pee and never returned. I sat, chap-lipped, waiting for Tamara to reemerge from the shadows. 

I smoked cigarettes. Someone called out Beatrice very softly. I started moving toward the voice. “Tamara? Is that you?” I heard mumblings, kept walking. 

“Beatrice?” she rasped. 

“Tamara? What the hell?”  Tamara was leaning over the side of the curb barfing her brains out. Fredrick was long gone. 

“Are you okay?” I asked, holding Tamara’s hair back. 

Tamara looked up at me, a smear of a face with bloodshot eyes. “Beatrice?”

“Yes,” I answered.

Tamara threw her head back, crossed her arms and roared out “Wiennnnnnnnn,” as loud as she could. We both started cracking up. We finally had something to write home about.


published 17 August 2011