Tag: Germany

An Arkansas Razorback in Queen Elizabeth Country 4

The traditional "running hog" image ...
Arkansas Razorback

Before I moved out of my now haunted flat, I was sent to Ramstein Air Base in Germany aka USAFE Headquarters for a week. I’ll have to write another blog post or two about an Arkansas Razorback in Europe, I guess.

I was glad to get back. In spite of the fact that Ramstein AB was huge and boasted a Burger King, I didn’t take to it very much. Part of the tour of the base when we arrived was showing us the blown-up Headquarters building that had been car-bombed by a German terrorist group. So although Germany was beautiful, it was also a place where you could get blown-up while doing your day-to-day ‘peace-time’ duties.

It left an impression all right.

The first person I bumped into when I got back to the village was Frank my toilet sharing buddy. As I walked up to my front door, he sat in the little courtyard outside our adjourning flats, barbecuing a steak for a young lady in high heels and blue-jean shorts.

He had a fixed grin on his face and he greeted me effusively.

“Hey, Holmes! When did you get back?” This was said through gritted teeth as he talked through his fixed grin.

I stopped and looked at Frank.

“What?” I started laughing, “I got back today. Why are you talking like that? Are you drunk?”

Frank shook his head. “No, Holmes. I got my jaw broke by  a fucking midget! My jaws wired shut.”

I laid my duffel bag down and sat on it.

“Dude, what happened?”

“Well, Holmes, I was in the pub and it was close to closing time. Tom was serving last orders when these three punks came in.”

Frank took a drink out of his beer and turned the steak over.

“They started giving Tom a hard time and I was the only one left in the pub, man. The midget was talking big and threatening Tom. So I stood up and got involved.”

“What happened?”

“Well, you know I’ve been taking Karate lessons, right?”

I nodded. Frank took the steak off the grill and after putting it on a plate handed it to the girl. “Here you are darlin’ put your mouth around that. Why don’t you check and see if your boyfriend wants one. I’ll be glad to put one on for him.”

The girl giggled and said okay and trotted obediently into the hall leading to Frank’s flat. I looked a Frank, stunned. “Isn’t she one of your ‘massage’ girls?”

Frank nodded.

“And she brought her boyfriend?”

“Yeah, Holmes. He’s cool with it. He brings her over on his motorbike..”

I was very surprised, I mean, these girls didn’t give massages, if you get my meaning. The idea that the girl’s boyfriend would tag along and have a steak dinner with his girlfriend’s client was beyond my comprehension. She didn’t come back out, so I can only assume that her boyfriend had some scruples that precluded eating a steak from clients. Either that or he was sharing hers.

Frank handed me a beer and continued his story.

“Well I’m just about to get my black belt, Holmes, so I figured I could take care of these little chumps, no problem.”

“So what happened.”

“The littlest dude in the group, the midget, hops up and punches me.” He paused, “Once.” Frank rubbed his hand over his jaw. “Little fucker knocked me out and broke my jaw,” He pointed to first one side of his jaw and then the other, “Twice.”

I bent over double with laughter. Frank stood glaring at me for a minute and then started braying laughter through his wired up jaw.

Taking a swig of beer, Frank stopped laughing and glared off into the distance.

“Man I’m gonna sue that son-of-a-bitch instructor. Or at least get my money back.” Shaking his head he started back into his flat muttering, “One punch, Holmes, one fuckin’ punch.”

I went into my flat then, only to discover that my electric meter had run out of money the week I was gone and everything in my little refrigerator had spoiled.

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Signals Mistaken, Misread and Missed

Cover of "Cheech and Chong's Up In Smoke ...
Cover via Amazon

I have always been a film nut. When I was growing up I had only one other friend who could spout all the dialogue from films like I could. This same friend and I would ‘re-enact’ all the scenes from Cheech and Chong’s Up in Smoke, much to the disgust of our workmates.

All my life I have been, if not the only one, the one who could recite verbatim a film’s plot, action sequences and all the characters reactions and dialogue. I had another friend who once told me, “Thanks Mike. You know, with you around I can save a fortune on watching movies. You describe them so well, I don’t have to watch them.”

I still don’t know if he was being sarcastic or not.

I am drawn to fellow movie nuts. These ‘nuts’ are hard to find. Because they have probably spent their entire lives running off at the mouth about whatever film they have just seen. And they have also probably spent their entire lives being told:

“Shut up!”

“Gezzus dude, give it a rest, will ya.”

“Gee, you really like your movies, don’t you?”

After a while you start talking less about the films you love. Of course these days you can talk about movies as much as you like via YouTube or in a blog. Pausing only long enough to edit both mediums and upload them on the computer.

It is a lot easier now to be a film fan who ‘runs off at the mouth.” That was not always the case.

In 1985 just after I’d married my second wife, I got sent to Germany for a conference. My first night there I met a young, pretty, female airman who was a fellow movie nut.

We spent the first night, alone in the crowd, talking almost non-stop about movies we loved. We also talked about films that the other person had not seen and traded notes as it were. She then made an oblique reference to a Marx Brothers film.

I was over the moon.

I could not believe that I had met another Marx Brother’s fan. We then talked and recited Groucho and Chico lines to each other. We only took breaks from this activity to replenish our beer supply and potty breaks.

Cover of "Duck Soup"
Cover of Duck Soup

She then did the entire courtroom sequence from Duck Soup. After I had stopped laughing, I took a deep breath and said jokingly, “Where have you been all my life.” And before I could do a Groucho eyebrow wiggle, she turned.

Her eyes went cold and icy. “What did you just say?” Before I could repeat it, she stood up and grabbed her beer. “You are married!” With a derisive snort, she turned her back to me and marched off.

You could have knocked me off my chair with a feather. Where had that come from? Marx Brothers fan she might be, she didn’t necessarily have a reciprocal sense of humour.

She ignored me for the rest of the week.

I talked about it to her male friend who came to the conference  with her. It turns out that her husband had been fooling around with another woman. She, quite understandably, was not very trusting of other married men.

On reflection I can see how she reached the instantaneous conclusion that I was ‘coming on’ to her. She had mistaken my joke for an invitation.  I, in turn, misread her love for movies. I thought that anyone who was a Marx Brothers fan would get my attempt at humour. She then missed my also attempted explanation.

So not quite ships that pass in the night. Still it would have been nice to know just one other film fan to talk to. Now I have my daughter and we both hinge our tongues in the middle and let them flap non-stop while we talk about movies.

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