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Keep those hefeweizens coming please |
Sunday, 15 February 8:44 pm
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 | Ah, Germany. The land where the eighties live on forever. I am here supporting an event for the well known suplier of imaging solutions that pays the bills for us. While the week, and especially the last two days leading up to this were probably the most stressfull in my working career, I feel pretty good now. I made the silly mistake of booking a morning flight while officially I do not have to get my hands dirty until tomorow. I figured I'd have the time to check my emails at the hotel. A funny story in itself. Hotels have those little boxes with high speed internet and modem connections. My modem connection was blocked out though, so I did it the cheaky way and just unpluged the phone and stuck the jack in my laptop. This act of civil disobediance was immidiatly answered by a hotelboy knocking on my door saying there was something wrong with my phone. I am not sure if he understood when I told him I hooked up my computer to the thing, but after 5 minutes of gesturing he apperantly left me alone. |
Then it turned out that my companies email service was down. I remember hearing something about that. Of corse, if maintenance needs be done they'll do it on sunday.
Next challange: lunch. This hotel has 3 restaurants. I think you can have lunch in two of 'em. After I made sure there really was no Burger King in the vicinity I chose to go for the American Sports restaurant. I thought the cheesy concept might be amusing. It was exactly as you would expect. Lots of pictures of American Football players on the wall, a few tv's with sports on, and two or three framed shirts with autographs, one of die Mannschaft selber. I have yet to find a place in Europe that aims to go for the American diner feel withouth turning out to be a really hopeless and depressing place. At least they have a bottle of ketchup and mustard on the table, I thought. Lissette would like that. The one thing that made me feel like I really was in America was a desperate craving for mayonaise. I don't mind that other countries think it is gross to put mayonaise on fries but please, WHAT IS THE POINT OF SERVING FRIES WITH YOUR FOOD THEN ANYWAY! The fact that the ketchup coming out of the Heinz bottle was clearly not Heinz ketchup made this craving even worse. It wasn't even normal shitty ketchup, it was the worst I ever tasted. It had this side flavor that tasted like straw to me. I wonder what Heinz thinks about places that refill Heinz bottles with buckets of inferior stuff. I think they could actually make a good point about it in court.
Anyway, maybe it was the ketchup, but when I got back to my room I completely passed out. I slept for four hours having the weirdest dreams. Since my colleagues were probably going to have dinner at the congress hall, and I was still kinda woozy from my nap, I got myself some roomservice. There's something really depressing about hotels, and roomservice is the epithamy of that. You find yourself in a building where every room is identical, on the 35th of about 50 floors, looking out over the business center of an anonymous city, eating food at your little desk in your bedroom. The fact that the rooms here are quite small (I was a bit surprised to tell you the truth. I've had better) doesn't help either. Last year I spent ten days abroad and the hotel just starts to feel like a prison. You start to feel very anonymous yourself too, since your private life outside of work is spent being naught but a customer. And, lets face it, German tv is not known for it's quality. Currently there is a great Robbie Williams docu on MTV though. I like Robbie Williams, but even if you don't it should be a pretty nice 'I am a star and it sucks ass' rockumentary. I know it will probably be over in a few minutes though, and it drives me to despair a little bit. Why didn't I bring a book?
There's a normal and a mormon bible in my cabinet though, that should be some fun. There's also a book written by the dude who apperantly started this chain of hotels. Well, congratulations for finally being able to toot your own little horn mr (hotelchainname). Your literary work has served me well as a hiding place for my cash.
German word of the day: klingeltohn, as in 'Heinz, ruff mir sofort ann! Ich habe die neuste supertolle klingeltohn von Herbert Gronemeyer auf meine handy!'
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