One cold winter in Hamburg, The Captn and I wanted to get drunk and/or high and then see if random things would happen. The problem, however, was that his ganja guy was no where to be found. So, he asked me to ask Mo for a hook up.
So, I called Mo, who was like, "Nope, I got nothin'. But I know this place where you can go in Barmbek. I'll meet you at the Barmbek subway station in 30 minutes."
Knowing Mo, I added an extra 30 mins on to his estimated time of arrival.
Sure enough, 30 minutes later, he calls to say that he's running late and it'll be another 30 minutes. "Cool," I says.
Another half an hour later, Mo calls again and is like, "Ok, I'm not gonna be able to meet up with you, but here's where you go."
And then I'm like, "Is this like just some random person's house, or what?"
Then Mo's like, "No, it's like a café."
"A what?!"
"It's a café."
"Um, ok"
He proceeds to give me fairly detailed directions to said café, along with the instructions of what I was to do once I got there:
"So, when you get to the café. Just go in and sit anywhere you want. Order a tea or something to drink. There are newspapers on the table. You can just read one if you want. Drink very slowly. There are gonna be some guys in the corner looking at you. You just sit there and read and drink tea. Have your money ready. After a while, one of the guys will come up to you and maybe they'll ask you where you live. If they do, tell them you live in the Kieler Strasse. Then, you'll make the exchange. That's all you have to do."
"Kieler Strasse?"
"Yeah, Kieler Strasse."
"Um, ok."
So, I ventured off to Barmbek by myself with the information that he gave me. After I found the place, I realized that it was less of a "café" and more of a "shithole" with some tables and chairs. There was a TV playing some turkish MTV or something. And yes, there were also some newspapers, also mostly in turkish, with the exception of a month-old Hamburger Abendblatt.
I ordered some tea and sat there pretending to look interested in the newspaper. Aside from the "waitress" and two sketchy looking guys at a table in the corner, I was the only person in there.
So, I drank tea (very slowly) and waited...and waited...and waited. And waited. It was a good 30-40 minutes before anything happened.
Finally, one of the sketchy guys from the table gets up, goes into another room, comes out again and walks up to me.
Then he asks, "Where do you live?"
"Uh....Kieler Strasse?"
He nodded, looked over at the other guy, who was still sitting at the table and said "Ahh, Kieler Strasse."
Then the guy sitting down, starts nodding, looks at the "waitress" and says "Kieler Strasse."
So, all of these fools are sitting around oohing and ahhing about Kieler Strasse.
The guy next to me pulls out a baggie, I hand him my money and he goes back and sits down at the table as though nothing just happened.
I get up, pay for my tea and then leave...with a very slight sense of accomplishment, but mostly I was just perplexed.
THE END.
So, I called Mo, who was like, "Nope, I got nothin'. But I know this place where you can go in Barmbek. I'll meet you at the Barmbek subway station in 30 minutes."
Knowing Mo, I added an extra 30 mins on to his estimated time of arrival.
Sure enough, 30 minutes later, he calls to say that he's running late and it'll be another 30 minutes. "Cool," I says.
Another half an hour later, Mo calls again and is like, "Ok, I'm not gonna be able to meet up with you, but here's where you go."
And then I'm like, "Is this like just some random person's house, or what?"
Then Mo's like, "No, it's like a café."
"A what?!"
"It's a café."
"Um, ok"
He proceeds to give me fairly detailed directions to said café, along with the instructions of what I was to do once I got there:
"So, when you get to the café. Just go in and sit anywhere you want. Order a tea or something to drink. There are newspapers on the table. You can just read one if you want. Drink very slowly. There are gonna be some guys in the corner looking at you. You just sit there and read and drink tea. Have your money ready. After a while, one of the guys will come up to you and maybe they'll ask you where you live. If they do, tell them you live in the Kieler Strasse. Then, you'll make the exchange. That's all you have to do."
"Kieler Strasse?"
"Yeah, Kieler Strasse."
"Um, ok."
So, I ventured off to Barmbek by myself with the information that he gave me. After I found the place, I realized that it was less of a "café" and more of a "shithole" with some tables and chairs. There was a TV playing some turkish MTV or something. And yes, there were also some newspapers, also mostly in turkish, with the exception of a month-old Hamburger Abendblatt.
I ordered some tea and sat there pretending to look interested in the newspaper. Aside from the "waitress" and two sketchy looking guys at a table in the corner, I was the only person in there.
So, I drank tea (very slowly) and waited...and waited...and waited. And waited. It was a good 30-40 minutes before anything happened.
Finally, one of the sketchy guys from the table gets up, goes into another room, comes out again and walks up to me.
Then he asks, "Where do you live?"
"Uh....Kieler Strasse?"
He nodded, looked over at the other guy, who was still sitting at the table and said "Ahh, Kieler Strasse."
Then the guy sitting down, starts nodding, looks at the "waitress" and says "Kieler Strasse."
So, all of these fools are sitting around oohing and ahhing about Kieler Strasse.
The guy next to me pulls out a baggie, I hand him my money and he goes back and sits down at the table as though nothing just happened.
I get up, pay for my tea and then leave...with a very slight sense of accomplishment, but mostly I was just perplexed.
THE END.
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