Saturday I heard a chilled concert of Patrice in Munich, Muffathalle. Also the supporting act Fetsun raised the atmosphere with the powerful voice of the singer.
After the concert we returned to my castle home to have a whisky and organize a cab to the city. This plan turned to a real project as the cab central does obviously have three different phone numbers connected by a dubious system, calling two of the numbers leads to immediate hang up while the third number sometimes connects you to an operator. To make it a challenge the system seems to change the designation of the numbers to connection or hang up. At least we were successfull after 40 minutes of endurance.
Maybe related to the mind quieters consumed before, this cab ride was the longest I have ever experienced. The driver didn’t say a word. We neither. Looked out of the window sitting in the car’s fond and absorbed the world passing by. Sometimes realizing in a flash the eternal duration of the ride in the same way as the direct route we took. After having arrived the driver needed felt hours to find three bucks of change. Don’t know what he thought of the out of the ordinary couple of an forty-something and someone that is always asked for his ID card when buying tobacco. Don’t also know how many unexpected couples he drove during his cab driver life before.
We entered Riobar where we had made good experiences before. Quickly found a free place in the crowded tavern. Waited long for a first drink and were so thirsty. Unintentionally we listened to what the three behind us told each other.
The following is now a replay of my reception of what followed until we left.

Awkward voice: But boss, that’s what I say the whole time … have photos to prove that. … I’m not the bitch of your … men touching me …
I looked towards them. An over 50 old fat man, an over 50 old heavysat woman in traditional costume. A bottle of champagne in an icer. An 30-someting girl between them, the one with the unconvient voice. He sitting, she sitting in the oppostite of him. The traditional woman standing with her back towards me. The young woman caged by wall, table, him and the traditional woman.
Awkward voice: You cannot do that …
Traditional woman: … I like it …
Awkward voice: … it’s so mad …
Traditional woman: … this is my life …
Awkward voice: … nobody likes you …
Sound of spraying scent.
Sound of a glass falling to the ground cracking.
Sound of spraying scent.
Terrible odour drawing over.
Waitress having a look for the broken glass. Only looking, doing nothing.
…
Awkward voice: I tell you something … will turn worse … your business will bust …
…
Traditional woman is moving to the dancefloor. She behaves bearish.
Awkward voice is approacing her. She dances steamy with the Traditional.
…
Awkward voice and Traditional are back to the table.
Awkward voice (very loud): Our boss has nothing to drink! Bring something for our boss!
Waitress arrives fast-paced, bringing some glasses.
…
A woman dressed in black leather is falling backwards from her stool.
…
The dancing scene repeats.
…
Someone operates the gambling machine next to our table.
…
Boss moves beneath the dancefloor being danced around by both. The awkward voice still trying to be erotic but is rather drunken. Boss smokes a big cigar.
…
The leather woman tries to find a way upstairs. A guy, looking south-american, helps her.
The south-american goes to the bar, drinking from his white wine. Vain endeavour, I can see he’s highly drunken.
…
The triple returns to the table. Sound of spraying scent.
Terrible odour.
…
Waitress (to me): Who is the one that operated the machine here?
Me: I don’t know. He left the bar, I think.
Waitress running to the door, looking around outside. Coming back after a while, standing at the door looking towards the bartender: Jonny, he’s off.
…
Bartender leaves upstairs.
…
The table cater-cornered is occupied by a man and three good looking young women hanging with their eyes on his lips.
Too good looking.
…
(Bartender still missing.) One of the guests goes behind the bar, giving drinks to his friends.
…
A well-dressed couple enters the tavern.
…
The south-american approaches the table of the triple passing by ours, having earphones plugged in both ears and an unlighted cigarette in his mouth. I give him a light and ask what he’s listening to. I’m allowed to take part. Heavy metal. He plugs his ears again and leaves.
…
…

How crazy was that?! I always thought that I am a little bit insane, but what movies must play in other’s minds!
Columnists should live to see that, if they’re not well inspired what to deliver to their editor.