Kickin' It Austrian-Style, Take 4

Our night begins at Denunziant's favorite bar: you remember, the quiet one that I'm not wild about. Our waiter this evening fancies himself a comic, and makes fun of my request for vanilla vodka. He also sounds exactly like Ah-nuld…our esteemed California governor. And around here? People love that guy. Which brings up another question: Who IS this Robbie Williams? It appears that half of Europe loves him. The other half wants to kill him.

We introduce Denunziant to the word sassy. It doesn't translate very well to German. How does one define "sassy?" It is truly a question for the ages. Ponder, if you will, just what sassy means to you.

It's time for karaoke and I'm on my own. The Timo warns me that if Dodi is serenading me under the window tonight, he's throwing hot water on him.

"You might want to make it cold."

So the rest of the crowd goes home, but I cannot go home without singing just one song. So I head over to Highways and order up a beer to bolster my courage, while paging through the song book. Hey, there's Dodi. What's that? He's singing "Girls and Boys" by Blur with his friends. Hmmm. Okay, I'm not making a comment about that one.

Dodi comes over to encourage me to sing. Oh yeah, and to make out some more. I'm so not complaining. I finally decide to sing "Like a Virgin" by Madonna, and while I'm performing, I find a new group of crazy Brits making all sorts of hand gestures and motions. It's quite distracting. But then I find out later from Dodi that this British sign language means they think I'm sexy. Or maybe that's just what he's telling me. Anyway. These crazy Brits have shirts on from the French Connection UK, which is abbreviated on their shirts fcuk. Cute, huh? Very clever. And they all have nicknames on the back of their shirts, one of them Adolf. Wow. Isn't that in poor taste in these parts? Dodi just shrugs.

Dodi and I proceed to discuss our utter and complete difference in musical tastes. He actually says the horrid phrase:

"Eddie Vedder is a wanker."

Blasphemy! Blasphemy from your gorgeous mouth, Dodi!! He then admits that though R.E.M is his favorite band of all time, he also thinks that Michael Stipe is a wanker. A gay fruity wanker at that. Hmmm. And then there it is again on stage—a Robbie Williams song is being sung. Dodi gets frustrated with my lack of knowledge on world pop:

"Do you even listen to music in America?"

But hell, kids, he thinks Meatloaf is cool! Come on, Meatloaf was cool in like….I don't know…was he even cool in like the 70s? I don't know.

"And besides, he's named after a FOOD, for God's sake."

It's Dodi's turn to be confused. "What is meat loaf, anyway?"

El Dilector has joined us at this point and he and I look at each other. How to explain meat loaf? Like either of us have ever made one…in fact, it's probably been twenty years since I've even eaten one. Ewww. That makes me sound old.

"Meat loaf sounds like it should be English anyway," El Dilector points out. "It's pretty gross."

Dodi draws us a map of the United Kingdom. It has some rather interesting features, such as the Sheep-Shaggers, the Drunks, and there's an X through London. Dodi has some rather strong opinions about London. I guess I can relate…he feels about London the way I feel about College Station.

There are more beers…there are some new shots…mmmm, tasty and intoxicating. I find myself staring at my boots in a drunken haze and thinking, "Damn I love these boots. What an excellent purchase."

I decide to introduce the following topics:
**If America's kitchen is The Kettle, then what does that say about America? Really, have you been to one of these restaurants? It's super scary.
**How much does Andy Roddick suck? I mean, really, so what if he's a tennis champion? It doesn't mean he can host Saturday Night Live.
**When Justin Timberlake is cool…what is the world coming to? It used to be that he was a dorky member of a boy band. Remember how horrified Gigi was that she kept spying him in magazines and thought he was hot? Now, ask almost anyone—especially guys—and they've give you a sheepish grin and admit that they like his music. Arrrggghhh.
**And then there's the German Toasting Tradition: If you don't look a person in the eye while toasting them, it's seven years bad sex. But hey, isn't bad sex better than no sex?

Sad that the karaoke man has packed up and gone away. It doesn't stop Dodi, El Dilector and me from ordering a couple more drinks. Just to help us sleep. Dodi introduces us to a new shot: The Bakewell Tart. El Dilector reflects on the church bells that ring each morning near our hotel at 6:45:

"I can't figure out those fuckin' bells. I woke up every hour. At last count, it was 32:09." It's true. There doesn't appear to be any rhyme or reason to them. They just…keep…ringing. Much like the ringing that has been in our heads each morning after each Dark Side of Drunk.

Alas, the lights are on and we must start homeward. I tell Dodi not to assume he's staying with me, and he should heed The Timo's warning.

"You know what happens when we assume," I tell him. "We make an ass out of you and me." Another American expression he finds amusing.

"Assumption," he tells me as he takes my hand, "is the mother of all fuck-ups."

Until the bells. Good night, Kitzbuhel.

-Shakira 01.25.04