So tonight I sit in what I can only assume is the place to be on a Friday night here in Schwandorf. It’s bumpin’. Full of people that are far too young to drink in American bars, people dressed like they think people in American bars would dress, and the most god-awful German techno music you can imagine. The sign outside says only “Cafe Bar.” So I can also assume that this is the only place to be on a Friday night in this little town.
I’m sitting with my back to the wall typing away on my laptop. I’m the only one here who doesn’t appear to be having a blast, except the dudes in the corner, both of whom have mohawks and are rocking their generic metal band t-shirts, gold chains and black leather jackets. For my third assumption I’ll wager that they wouldn’t appear to be having fun even if they were having the time of their lives; it’s kind of their thing.
This isn’t what I had in mind for my Friday night. I was hoping to be on an airplane home, or on the Autobahn heading towards more familiar places in Germany, and people with whom I’d rather spend my time. But, our little system didn’t play nice, so I’ll be spending this weekend and a couple days at the beginning of next week in my overgrown closet of a hotel room in this little Bavarian town.
Nights like tonight I’m not a huge fan of my job. So it seemed healthy to take the opportunity to remind myself of the benefits, even though they seem few and far between from where I’m sitting.
I got to see Prague this weekend. And I got to do it with people that mean an awful lot to me. That’s some shit that never would’ve happened if it weren’t for lasery-measurey-thingies, and faulty optical switches, and intermittent power supplies. So, here’s a little video I made of the day-trip to Prague that made up the one and only day off work I’ve had in the last two weeks.
You know the drill by now. 1 day off out of 13. In a part of the world I know nothing about, visiting a city I know nothing about, short of the fact that I should go there. So we went there. 3 hour drive. 6 hour walk. 3 hour drive. Trip over. Word.
Shots of Jim Beam and my tiny little bed are calling. Until next time.
-B. Littleton
