"Mozart's wife makes a mean cup 'o joe."

And then, as Denunziant explains the menu to us:

"Will you stop feeding my wife booze and coffee?"

Poor Denunziant. She doesn't understand this strange American phenom known as The Timo. Poor Radler doesn't really understand either.

We move on to dinner at some charming out of the way restaurant. Our charming dinner discussion revolves around a central question:

"Who is more full of shit: The Timo or El Dilector?"

We decide they're pretty much even. The Timo orders another beer and starts telling another story.

"Is this going to be interesting?" Radler asks.

"No," The Timo answers.

Radler is happy she's saved the table from another story, and The Timo pouts: "Why don't you just take The Timo home?"

He is happy, however, when his food comes to the table and I observe that's quite a long pepper he's got.

"Ha! No girl's ever said that to me before," The Timo brightens and his dark mood is forgotten.

We pile into Denunziant's car for the ride back to Kitzbuhel. The Timo talks and Radler tries to shut him up. Their banter is punctuated by El Dilector asking:

"Wie sagen sie?" which means, "How do you say?" He's trying to learn the entire German language, one word at a time.

"Wie sagen sie mountain?" El Dilector wonders.

"The Timo, did you ever think someone else would want to talk?"

"Denunziant, are we there yet?"

"You feel secure with the way I am driving, yes?"

"Wie sagen sie cow?"

"I have to pee."

"What's the name of this town we're passing on the left?"

"Wie sagen sie town?"

It takes an hour and a half to get back to Kitzbuhel.

Once we're there, Radler and The Timo head home and I head back out to The Londoner. It's an early night, though, and there's not much to report except for Crocodile Dundee dancing on a chair. He's been there every night so far…but this time he's trying to dance to "Kung Fu Fighting." Oh boy. This will not end well. I predict a kick to the jaw.

Oooh too tired to dance tonight. Good night, Kitzbuhel.

-Shakira 01.26.04