The Last Hummer in Berlin
By John Amaruso
"And that's the last time I'll get a hummer in the bathroom of a Berlin gay club" I said with a sigh of relief as I finished my story.
"I'm sorry bro, what were you talking about?"
"Are you fuckin' kidding me? You haven't listened to a word I've been saying this entire time have you?"
Steve takes a deep pull from the bong. With a sharp inhale followed by a patchy cough, smoke bellows from his lungs with intensity.
"My bad."
"Alright, I guess I'll just have to start from the top. It's a good one too ya' dick. Pass that shit over here and let me start over."
I had recently come into a bit of money and thought it appropriate to spend it on something any 22 year old male dreams about- a backpacking trip through Europe. The idea had come to me and a few friends back in the day as we sat around fantasizing about what kinds of adventures we would get into together. The crazy drunken shenanigans, the mystery and intrigue of a different world, the kinky European sex; we laughed as we took sips out of our 24's in the parking lot of a Dunkin Donuts in the center of town.
I found myself having to make the trip on my own, seeing that my fellow amigos... well, without insulting them, they just couldn't seem to make the trip. See, when you have friends like Steve, it's difficult to get them to even sign on to a house party around the block, let alone a 5,000 mile adventure through the backwoods and cities of Europe. Their loss I suppose.
So there I was- on month 3 of a 5 month backpacking trip through Europe. Berlin was my next stop. For no reason other than for the sake of it, I started my trip out in Eastern Europe. From Romania I jumped over to Bulgaria, through Serbia, up to Hungary, passed through Austria, down to Italy, up to France, and now Germany. I zigzagged a bit, but I didn't really have much of anything planned to begin with. It all was all on a whim and that's what made it an adventure.
I arrived in the historic and beautiful city of Berlin. It's Cold War history, its political and social significance, you could feel it in the air you breathed. The city's culture, its people, alive and vibrant.
I spent the first few days in Berlin simply touring the city on my own. I rented a bike and rode for miles through the streets down to the Reichstag, the Brandenburger Gate, Checkpoint Charlie, the East side gallery (or the Berlin Wall if you may). They were all fascinating sites to behold, hundreds of years of history lay before me and it was I, who had the privilege to witness it. Alone and free, not a soul in the world knew where I was, and I loved every moment of it.
Yeah, I was enjoying my time to say the least, but I wanted to find the real action; where was the nightlife? The ragers, the world famous German brewery's, the late night dance clubs, the pubs, the drugs, but most importantly, the ladies.
I'm no chauvinist, but I do consider myself a female connoisseur. Before you get any ideas, I just want you to know, I'm a classy gentleman, alright? Don't get any ideas and impose your feminist or morally righteous projections upon me. I'm a young guy at the height of his sexual peak. To not utilize my raging hormones would be a tragic insult to men everywhere.
Now where was I... Oh yeah. Berlin.
So now I'm in search of some ass and some drinks. But alas, being a lone guy in a foreign city, it's difficult to strike up conversation with just anyone. And then when you actually do find a girl at the bar to attempt the daring, you find out she's 16, and you remember the drinking age in Germany is about that. My bad.
So I'm on this tour of the Sachsenhausen concentration camp on the outskirts of Berlin. I learn on this tour that most concentration camps weren't even located in Germany, but in Poland and surrounding areas. Axis forces pushed their way west and east during the war and built them as they went. We got to walk on the grounds and listen as our awkward faced tour guide, Petra, told us of the horrors that were committed around us only 60 years ago.
Prime real estate for scoping out some potential pussy? I'd say so.
So I'm looking around at my group for some prospects. Disappointed, I see only a few families, most of them speaking in foreign tongue. The one Spanish looking wife had a great ass though.
And thats when I saw her. A bit tall for my taste but cute nonetheless. At this point height was irrelevant. I would have taken our awkward faced tour guide back behind the barracks if I had the chance.
So I approach. I find out she's Australian. She's also sweet and friendly. We talk about American snobbishness and ignorance, and Australian rugged and tough culture. I make a joke saying what did her great great great grandparents do to get them sent to Australia (seeing that Australians are the descendents of British prisoners). She laughed at most of my jokes. I like that in a girl.
She invites me to her hostel for drinks later that night. Gladly I accept. Drinks, a possible lay? Shit, count me in.
Shit, Shave, Shower, Ready. I grab a cab and end up at the doorstep of her hostel.
I'm invited in to take a trip up a windy staircase into a smoky lounge. A pool table, a few chairs and couches surrounding a glass table with an active game of cards being played by an assortment of girls and guys.
I'm introduced.
"Everybody, this is Logan, he's from America." A chorus of people in different accents greet me as I shake their hands.
One guy in particular stands out. Probably because he actually stood up to shake my hand.
In an accent quite familiar to me he says "What's goin' on dude, I'm Bobby, you're from America? No shit, me and my girl here are from Wisconsin. Meet Jenny."
We exchange greetings.
"Take a seat brother, tell me what brings you to Germany my man."
I tell him about the money and all that. I tell him where I've been, what I'm doing, what I'm looking for.
"Oh righteous, nice, nice. Me and my girl here, we're international bank robbers."
You don't say? I take it with a grain of salt. Probably some bullshit cocktail they serve to every passerby they know they'll never have to see again. I take a sip and then continue drinking my own drink.
I find myself in a card game of Horses. The way it's played is each person chooses a suit, they shuffle the cards, and whichever suit gets 4 cards first wins the race, and you get to dish out 8 seconds worth of drinking time to any of the people playing the game. Without having to state it, we got pretty smashed.
After a few rounds, Bobby's girlfriend starts getting a bit handsy with me. To a point she's almost ignoring him and devoting a majority of her attention to me.
Bobby begins to notice. I call a suit-
"Hearts."
She follows.
"Hearts also." She smiles at me.
Bobby from right behind her smiles at me too.
"Well isn't that just cute. Shit, we got ourselves a cute couple over here don't we? Come on pretty boy, don't be shy, kiss her."
I check my pulse. Is this guy telling me to kiss his girlfriend? This has gotta be a trap. There is no WAY this is gonna' go down well. What if he really is some dangerous international bank robber? That means this guy doesn't give a fuck. Or what if he's some freaky fuck who wants to watch me fuck his girlfriend? My head is spinning and not just from these drinks.
Just at that moment, I'm saved by three blonde haired angels. They enter the room, elegant and poised, with a mission- that mission, was to save me from what was about to happen.
I immediately engage them in an effort to ward off the impending calamity with me, Bobby and Jenny.
They are warm and have beautiful accents. They invite me to join them, as they were just on their way to a bar across town. I graciously accept and part ways with my new, but soon to be, old friends.
We take the tram through Western Berlin into the East where the girls tell me of this popping club on the 19th floor of some high rise building. Sheek, eclectic and fancy. My mind went wild at the thought of all these scantily clad women in their high priced outfits, dancing in hanging cages, drinks being poured at a moments thirst. It was too good to be true. Me, three beautiful Swedish women, and a night I wouldn't forget... But not for the reasons previously stated.
We get off the tram and take a 5 minute walk through the dark, cold streets of a mid march night in Berlin.
We approach a high rise building, but it's not just any high rise building; it's the Berlin corporate headquarters of Panasonic- you know, the electronics company...
"What the fuck?" I say. "Where is the club?"
"Right here!" says Maria, the cutest of them all.
"You're joking me right?"
"No no, we were here last night, trust me, it's awesome."
We approach the darkened lobby. I'm expecting the automatic door to remain shut as we walk within its scope. To my surprise, the door opens, and a man, 6 foot at the least, in a beanie and black leather gloves appears from the darkness.
"Hallo wie geht es dir heute?" he says with a smile
"I'm sorry, we don't speak German." says Maria, the cutest of them all.
"Oh, alright then, where you girls from?"
"Sweden."
"Serious? Sing the Swedish national anthem, and you get in free. Normally, 10 Euro. For you, free!"
The girls giggle a bit, and then almost without hesitation and on cue, they sing in perfect harmony, what I can only interpret, as the song of the angels. It was majestic and enchanting. Me and the bouncer look at each other with similar expressions of amazement.
When the choir comes to an end, me and the bouncer applaud wildly.
"Very good, very good! Come on in!" he says as he extends his left arm to signal the ok to walk past him.
I am so happy I found these awesome chicks.
We get into an elevator that has over 30 floors. The only floors illuminated are 15-19. The girls say on that the club consists of those four floors. Now it's a four floor nightclub? Holy shit I am in heaven aren't I? I'm about to experience the night of a lifetime, all with three beautiful swedish women in the beautiful city of Berlin.
I riddle with anxiety and jitters as I fantasize about what will lay before me when those elevator doors open. Playmates? Bottles of Rum, Whiskey and Vodka piled sky high? Millions of dollars falling from the ceiling in a free for all?! Any of the above at this point was more than possible- it was realistic.
The doors open. My eyes widen. As those golden doors open the first sense that is immediately flushed is my hearing. The bass and the music penetrate my very soul and into my bones. A misty fog rolls across the floor and flashing lights illuminate the clouds as we exit the elevator and into the rest of our night. As my eyes adjust to the immense scenery, I witness something that couldn't have possibly been real.
It was all Dudes. Everywhere I looked. They were all Dudes. Hundreds, if not thousands, of Dudes. Dudes at the bar having drinks, Dudes dancing with other Dudes, Dudes making out with other Dudes. Where in the FUCK am I?
The Swedish girls gush with excitement. I grab the cutest of them all by her arm.
"What the FUCK are we doing here?"
"It's the hottest gay club in the city. Come on, have some fun, lighten up!"
Holy hell. I am in a gay club. Surrounded by dude on dude action. What in gods name am I doing here? This is NOT what I had in mind.
At this point I am already trashed. I made it all the way out here, and at great expense, ditching my friends back at the hostel. I swallowed my pride and looked at the bright side- I'm the only single straight guy in this entire club. These Swedish bitches have no other option. So I pursue my own optimism.
I grab a drink from the assless leather chapped bartender. I never felt so strange in my entire life. I sit pensively gauging the scene, attempting to be open minded about the immense dude on dude hedonism I was witnessing.
Just then out of the corner of my eye- breasts. I found breasts! I see a woman and she's standing there talking to a few other people- and they have breasts too! It was glorious to say the least. I take the last swig of my drink and tell the Swedish girls I'll find them in a moment.
I approach. I say hello and ask her what her name is.
"Sorry, no English..." she says in a thick accent.
Ah shit. Gonna' try it anyway.
"Oh, Espanol, tu conozco?"
"Si, un poco."
I ask where she's from in Spanish. Italy she answers. Hm, an Italian woman, a dish I've never tried, until now...
So we talk. Even in Spanish the conversation is so broken that it's almost futile. Our conversation is going nowhere fast, just what I feared. Just as I am about to call it quits and head back over to Maria and the girls, she gets up and begins to walk away. Curious I sit there, watching her hips sway back and forth as she departs.
In the mist of the fog, she looks over her left shoulder back at me, and curls her finger to tell me to follow her. Without hesitation, I chase.
She turns the corner. Just as I turn the corner, I'm grabbed by the back of my neck and my head is forced down until my lips are locked with hers. Now that's my kind of communication.
I'm flung into a bathroom. Our lips sloppily paint each others faces to the point where in retrospective, it was disgusting. She unbuttons my shirt like it's on fire, and I tear hers off likewise. Next thing I know, my belt flys across the stall and hits the wall. Her hands grip the top of my jeans as she pulls them down to my ankles.
She comes back up for a moment, indulges me with another sloppy kiss, and returns back to her domain.
She begins to go down on me. I think to myself I must be the luckiest fucking dude in this entire gay club... Or at least the luckiest straight dude in this entire gay club. I mean, come on- I made it. I'm having freaky sex with some hot ass European chick. Yeah, it might be in a bathroom stall which happens to be located in a gay club, but you know what they say, when in Rome, or Berlin, I guess to say...
Just then a loud thud breaks my euphoria as the stall door is broken down and three men barge in. She immediately yells as the men push her aside and begin to beat me senseless. I'm on the ground, covered in what I believe is urine, as three men pummel me relentlessly. They scream things in a foreign language I can't understand. I yell "Hey man what the fuck, get the fuck off me, leave me the fuck alone."
In English the one man replies "That's my girlfriend you fuckin' pig." he spits on me.
Within the chaos of this beatdown, two larger than life men dressed in black Staff shirts rip the guys off of me. Half naked and beaten, I am escorted out of the club, never to see my beautiful Italian harlot ever again, or those fine Swedish girls.
"And THAT is why I will never get a hummer in the bathroom of a Berlin gay club ever again."
Steve sits with wide, blood shot eyes. He coughs a baby cloud of smoke from his lungs.
"Shit bro. That's Gnarly... Wanna' another hit?"
"...Yeah sure, why not."
By John Amaruso
"And that's the last time I'll get a hummer in the bathroom of a Berlin gay club" I said with a sigh of relief as I finished my story.
"I'm sorry bro, what were you talking about?"
"Are you fuckin' kidding me? You haven't listened to a word I've been saying this entire time have you?"
Steve takes a deep pull from the bong. With a sharp inhale followed by a patchy cough, smoke bellows from his lungs with intensity.
"My bad."
"Alright, I guess I'll just have to start from the top. It's a good one too ya' dick. Pass that shit over here and let me start over."
I had recently come into a bit of money and thought it appropriate to spend it on something any 22 year old male dreams about- a backpacking trip through Europe. The idea had come to me and a few friends back in the day as we sat around fantasizing about what kinds of adventures we would get into together. The crazy drunken shenanigans, the mystery and intrigue of a different world, the kinky European sex; we laughed as we took sips out of our 24's in the parking lot of a Dunkin Donuts in the center of town.
I found myself having to make the trip on my own, seeing that my fellow amigos... well, without insulting them, they just couldn't seem to make the trip. See, when you have friends like Steve, it's difficult to get them to even sign on to a house party around the block, let alone a 5,000 mile adventure through the backwoods and cities of Europe. Their loss I suppose.
So there I was- on month 3 of a 5 month backpacking trip through Europe. Berlin was my next stop. For no reason other than for the sake of it, I started my trip out in Eastern Europe. From Romania I jumped over to Bulgaria, through Serbia, up to Hungary, passed through Austria, down to Italy, up to France, and now Germany. I zigzagged a bit, but I didn't really have much of anything planned to begin with. It all was all on a whim and that's what made it an adventure.
I arrived in the historic and beautiful city of Berlin. It's Cold War history, its political and social significance, you could feel it in the air you breathed. The city's culture, its people, alive and vibrant.
I spent the first few days in Berlin simply touring the city on my own. I rented a bike and rode for miles through the streets down to the Reichstag, the Brandenburger Gate, Checkpoint Charlie, the East side gallery (or the Berlin Wall if you may). They were all fascinating sites to behold, hundreds of years of history lay before me and it was I, who had the privilege to witness it. Alone and free, not a soul in the world knew where I was, and I loved every moment of it.
Yeah, I was enjoying my time to say the least, but I wanted to find the real action; where was the nightlife? The ragers, the world famous German brewery's, the late night dance clubs, the pubs, the drugs, but most importantly, the ladies.
I'm no chauvinist, but I do consider myself a female connoisseur. Before you get any ideas, I just want you to know, I'm a classy gentleman, alright? Don't get any ideas and impose your feminist or morally righteous projections upon me. I'm a young guy at the height of his sexual peak. To not utilize my raging hormones would be a tragic insult to men everywhere.
Now where was I... Oh yeah. Berlin.
So now I'm in search of some ass and some drinks. But alas, being a lone guy in a foreign city, it's difficult to strike up conversation with just anyone. And then when you actually do find a girl at the bar to attempt the daring, you find out she's 16, and you remember the drinking age in Germany is about that. My bad.
So I'm on this tour of the Sachsenhausen concentration camp on the outskirts of Berlin. I learn on this tour that most concentration camps weren't even located in Germany, but in Poland and surrounding areas. Axis forces pushed their way west and east during the war and built them as they went. We got to walk on the grounds and listen as our awkward faced tour guide, Petra, told us of the horrors that were committed around us only 60 years ago.
Prime real estate for scoping out some potential pussy? I'd say so.
So I'm looking around at my group for some prospects. Disappointed, I see only a few families, most of them speaking in foreign tongue. The one Spanish looking wife had a great ass though.
And thats when I saw her. A bit tall for my taste but cute nonetheless. At this point height was irrelevant. I would have taken our awkward faced tour guide back behind the barracks if I had the chance.
So I approach. I find out she's Australian. She's also sweet and friendly. We talk about American snobbishness and ignorance, and Australian rugged and tough culture. I make a joke saying what did her great great great grandparents do to get them sent to Australia (seeing that Australians are the descendents of British prisoners). She laughed at most of my jokes. I like that in a girl.
She invites me to her hostel for drinks later that night. Gladly I accept. Drinks, a possible lay? Shit, count me in.
Shit, Shave, Shower, Ready. I grab a cab and end up at the doorstep of her hostel.
I'm invited in to take a trip up a windy staircase into a smoky lounge. A pool table, a few chairs and couches surrounding a glass table with an active game of cards being played by an assortment of girls and guys.
I'm introduced.
"Everybody, this is Logan, he's from America." A chorus of people in different accents greet me as I shake their hands.
One guy in particular stands out. Probably because he actually stood up to shake my hand.
In an accent quite familiar to me he says "What's goin' on dude, I'm Bobby, you're from America? No shit, me and my girl here are from Wisconsin. Meet Jenny."
We exchange greetings.
"Take a seat brother, tell me what brings you to Germany my man."
I tell him about the money and all that. I tell him where I've been, what I'm doing, what I'm looking for.
"Oh righteous, nice, nice. Me and my girl here, we're international bank robbers."
You don't say? I take it with a grain of salt. Probably some bullshit cocktail they serve to every passerby they know they'll never have to see again. I take a sip and then continue drinking my own drink.
I find myself in a card game of Horses. The way it's played is each person chooses a suit, they shuffle the cards, and whichever suit gets 4 cards first wins the race, and you get to dish out 8 seconds worth of drinking time to any of the people playing the game. Without having to state it, we got pretty smashed.
After a few rounds, Bobby's girlfriend starts getting a bit handsy with me. To a point she's almost ignoring him and devoting a majority of her attention to me.
Bobby begins to notice. I call a suit-
"Hearts."
She follows.
"Hearts also." She smiles at me.
Bobby from right behind her smiles at me too.
"Well isn't that just cute. Shit, we got ourselves a cute couple over here don't we? Come on pretty boy, don't be shy, kiss her."
I check my pulse. Is this guy telling me to kiss his girlfriend? This has gotta be a trap. There is no WAY this is gonna' go down well. What if he really is some dangerous international bank robber? That means this guy doesn't give a fuck. Or what if he's some freaky fuck who wants to watch me fuck his girlfriend? My head is spinning and not just from these drinks.
Just at that moment, I'm saved by three blonde haired angels. They enter the room, elegant and poised, with a mission- that mission, was to save me from what was about to happen.
I immediately engage them in an effort to ward off the impending calamity with me, Bobby and Jenny.
They are warm and have beautiful accents. They invite me to join them, as they were just on their way to a bar across town. I graciously accept and part ways with my new, but soon to be, old friends.
We take the tram through Western Berlin into the East where the girls tell me of this popping club on the 19th floor of some high rise building. Sheek, eclectic and fancy. My mind went wild at the thought of all these scantily clad women in their high priced outfits, dancing in hanging cages, drinks being poured at a moments thirst. It was too good to be true. Me, three beautiful Swedish women, and a night I wouldn't forget... But not for the reasons previously stated.
We get off the tram and take a 5 minute walk through the dark, cold streets of a mid march night in Berlin.
We approach a high rise building, but it's not just any high rise building; it's the Berlin corporate headquarters of Panasonic- you know, the electronics company...
"What the fuck?" I say. "Where is the club?"
"Right here!" says Maria, the cutest of them all.
"You're joking me right?"
"No no, we were here last night, trust me, it's awesome."
We approach the darkened lobby. I'm expecting the automatic door to remain shut as we walk within its scope. To my surprise, the door opens, and a man, 6 foot at the least, in a beanie and black leather gloves appears from the darkness.
"Hallo wie geht es dir heute?" he says with a smile
"I'm sorry, we don't speak German." says Maria, the cutest of them all.
"Oh, alright then, where you girls from?"
"Sweden."
"Serious? Sing the Swedish national anthem, and you get in free. Normally, 10 Euro. For you, free!"
The girls giggle a bit, and then almost without hesitation and on cue, they sing in perfect harmony, what I can only interpret, as the song of the angels. It was majestic and enchanting. Me and the bouncer look at each other with similar expressions of amazement.
When the choir comes to an end, me and the bouncer applaud wildly.
"Very good, very good! Come on in!" he says as he extends his left arm to signal the ok to walk past him.
I am so happy I found these awesome chicks.
We get into an elevator that has over 30 floors. The only floors illuminated are 15-19. The girls say on that the club consists of those four floors. Now it's a four floor nightclub? Holy shit I am in heaven aren't I? I'm about to experience the night of a lifetime, all with three beautiful swedish women in the beautiful city of Berlin.
I riddle with anxiety and jitters as I fantasize about what will lay before me when those elevator doors open. Playmates? Bottles of Rum, Whiskey and Vodka piled sky high? Millions of dollars falling from the ceiling in a free for all?! Any of the above at this point was more than possible- it was realistic.
The doors open. My eyes widen. As those golden doors open the first sense that is immediately flushed is my hearing. The bass and the music penetrate my very soul and into my bones. A misty fog rolls across the floor and flashing lights illuminate the clouds as we exit the elevator and into the rest of our night. As my eyes adjust to the immense scenery, I witness something that couldn't have possibly been real.
It was all Dudes. Everywhere I looked. They were all Dudes. Hundreds, if not thousands, of Dudes. Dudes at the bar having drinks, Dudes dancing with other Dudes, Dudes making out with other Dudes. Where in the FUCK am I?
The Swedish girls gush with excitement. I grab the cutest of them all by her arm.
"What the FUCK are we doing here?"
"It's the hottest gay club in the city. Come on, have some fun, lighten up!"
Holy hell. I am in a gay club. Surrounded by dude on dude action. What in gods name am I doing here? This is NOT what I had in mind.
At this point I am already trashed. I made it all the way out here, and at great expense, ditching my friends back at the hostel. I swallowed my pride and looked at the bright side- I'm the only single straight guy in this entire club. These Swedish bitches have no other option. So I pursue my own optimism.
I grab a drink from the assless leather chapped bartender. I never felt so strange in my entire life. I sit pensively gauging the scene, attempting to be open minded about the immense dude on dude hedonism I was witnessing.
Just then out of the corner of my eye- breasts. I found breasts! I see a woman and she's standing there talking to a few other people- and they have breasts too! It was glorious to say the least. I take the last swig of my drink and tell the Swedish girls I'll find them in a moment.
I approach. I say hello and ask her what her name is.
"Sorry, no English..." she says in a thick accent.
Ah shit. Gonna' try it anyway.
"Oh, Espanol, tu conozco?"
"Si, un poco."
I ask where she's from in Spanish. Italy she answers. Hm, an Italian woman, a dish I've never tried, until now...
So we talk. Even in Spanish the conversation is so broken that it's almost futile. Our conversation is going nowhere fast, just what I feared. Just as I am about to call it quits and head back over to Maria and the girls, she gets up and begins to walk away. Curious I sit there, watching her hips sway back and forth as she departs.
In the mist of the fog, she looks over her left shoulder back at me, and curls her finger to tell me to follow her. Without hesitation, I chase.
She turns the corner. Just as I turn the corner, I'm grabbed by the back of my neck and my head is forced down until my lips are locked with hers. Now that's my kind of communication.
I'm flung into a bathroom. Our lips sloppily paint each others faces to the point where in retrospective, it was disgusting. She unbuttons my shirt like it's on fire, and I tear hers off likewise. Next thing I know, my belt flys across the stall and hits the wall. Her hands grip the top of my jeans as she pulls them down to my ankles.
She comes back up for a moment, indulges me with another sloppy kiss, and returns back to her domain.
She begins to go down on me. I think to myself I must be the luckiest fucking dude in this entire gay club... Or at least the luckiest straight dude in this entire gay club. I mean, come on- I made it. I'm having freaky sex with some hot ass European chick. Yeah, it might be in a bathroom stall which happens to be located in a gay club, but you know what they say, when in Rome, or Berlin, I guess to say...
Just then a loud thud breaks my euphoria as the stall door is broken down and three men barge in. She immediately yells as the men push her aside and begin to beat me senseless. I'm on the ground, covered in what I believe is urine, as three men pummel me relentlessly. They scream things in a foreign language I can't understand. I yell "Hey man what the fuck, get the fuck off me, leave me the fuck alone."
In English the one man replies "That's my girlfriend you fuckin' pig." he spits on me.
Within the chaos of this beatdown, two larger than life men dressed in black Staff shirts rip the guys off of me. Half naked and beaten, I am escorted out of the club, never to see my beautiful Italian harlot ever again, or those fine Swedish girls.
"And THAT is why I will never get a hummer in the bathroom of a Berlin gay club ever again."
Steve sits with wide, blood shot eyes. He coughs a baby cloud of smoke from his lungs.
"Shit bro. That's Gnarly... Wanna' another hit?"
"...Yeah sure, why not."
