
the reception that I reserve , with that unmistakable accent so difficult to reproduce on paper and that always makes me sbellicare laughter - not least, a perfect Italian that makes me ashamed of my German slurred speech -, my neighbor house, the one who lives below me and gets nervous when I play the piano with headphones and, striking the keys, causing vibrations which propagate in the parquet, insinuate themselves into the ceiling below, and for the known law of the ball snow rolling down the snowy slope, coming to his ears so amplified can be exchanged for the whole rhythm section of a Sepultura concert. Smiled and I put in my mouth a huge sandwich that keeps me busy for a few minutes. The party, however, is other neighbors, the ones next door who, after a long period of 7 years, have decided to trasferirisi Argau , or something like that, happy little town of 600 souls in a half-hour by train from Zurich. He, E., Irish-bred, however, does not seem particularly excited to spend the rest of his life in a place where they know how many times during the day and shit consoles himself down a beer after the other - the fact that I I wanted to introduce myself with a couple of beers as a gesture of hospitality clearly shows, apart from the learned concepts learned from the valley with handkerchief Green my ignorance about the nature of Celtic descent : the balcony boxes are crammed on cases of beer. Would be too much even for Argau. K and I do not have anything to console us but we decide to keep him company in this relay alcohol and nicotine which lasts for several hours. We briefly summarize the events to avoid request to your attention, catalyzed by the status every two minutes on Facebook, a superhuman effort. Here's what happened during that time between eight o'clock and midnight:
- drank a fair amount of beer
- smoked a fair amount of cigarettes
- Speaking for the first time with a pair of Swiss. Swiss real. I have not yet discovered the meaning of life, but now I definitely know what it is not
- identified the prettiest girl, but other than talk and condition thanks to the points 1 and 2 which have the power to make your speech a sum ramshackle of nonsense, the thing was it
- Frozen. Literally. No one had warned me that winter in Zurich began in mid-October. After four hours spent on the balcony in shirt and vest the doctor has established that there is rigor mortis. Someone at some point must have me hanging on the jacket
Around half past midnight we have to greet the crew because we have to navigate to other seas. In fact, ten minutes by tram, in that exotic place called Valman, we expect L to L & L. And another. Send the kids to bed.
The restaurant is already packed. We order two cuba libre. The weather here is to serve and appear out of nowhere, in succession:
- L L & L
- L L & L, the other
- M, that of a sore foot, in the company of two girls . The first is the love of his life. Or so she wants to, but even young much of sciampista Schaffausen . Now you say assistant hairdresser, but the substance does not change: I imagine, there, below the falls, while the force of the water hits the canopy of the customer taking all that wonderful foam, hard fruit of his hard-working hands. Nature is cruel. The other, her friend, out of the brush of a painter bad, it's a bad picture of a girl. Some might call it a mussel, but I have too much respect for the mussels to venture to such bold comparisons. On the other hand is nice. If silent.
The number of glasses and toast to multiply wildly, while our minds, slowly, are blurred. Before the darkness to come down on my synapses and comes to the black night in which all cows are black - and I must say that quote was never more apt than this - I decide to perform in an impromptu baby walkers. Locate prey, reached out and try to grasp the pastern. She escapes into the outlet, disgusted. And in that moment something happens that I never imagined: the girl, under the influence of a bizarre maieutic completes two revolutions on itself . I'm watching the first case of electrolytic rotors, ie the process by which the electricity is contained in my body strikes the most harmonious guinea pigs which, when broken down into its constituent parts, produces a chemical reaction that culminates in a primeval walkers and self-referential. For a moment I feel like God before a stuttering Moses Switzerland: "I am the Lord your God who brought you out from the land of Valman, from the house of slaves. Thou shalt have no other Gods before me in vain and never say the word 'Absolutely'. " As soon as I recover from the state of omnipotence , I realize I'm drunk but I do not much case, normality makes me yawn. And now comes the turn and the desire to sail the 'ntenerisce the core. All except the two ladies to Zukufnt - of which there infischiami, having no role in this post - who prefer the look being (drunk) and flies to more conventional and boring Swiss shores. Before getting into the taxi, live entertainment with The L & L - him or the other? -Which, with a tablecloth stolen from nowhere, he launches into an unlikely imitation of Antonio Rezza. Once tributatogli the just applause, we do carry Helvetia Platz because the portfolios need to refuel. Fortunately I've always behind the mask. Playful interlude with music of Ravel Jeaux eau: I watering L L & L to the fountain and he who, a few minutes later, inspired by a muse, not particularly clever, he walks around carrying a basket full of plastic bottles ready for recycling. And I thought that in Switzerland you only recycle the money. Just a few meters to our Mecca of entertainment, but the surprises do not end there: L L & L, Bolton hit by lightning and without even waiting for the start, shooting and trying to beat the world record in the 100 meter enters the Kiosk - Swiss version of our tobacco - comes to the counter, he stops, turns and goes out walking with nonchalance. The person at the cash desk, petrified, shows an expression of astonishment mingled with terror will disappear from his face after a week. It is still there to ask the meaning of the mysterious apparition: a dissatisfied customer? A robber outgoing? A crowd protesting against the high price of cigarettes? And while the question haunting the mind of the seller, we are at the bar Zukunft engaged in a series of ceiling cuba libre. Meanwhile, someone he met with a group of South American fairly nice. One of them tries to get a drink offer from K, with gentle touch, sends to that country. Please, in the far right. L L & L, I do not know if either, takes the chance and, with ardor Italic, orders six shots of Jagermaister. I, meanwhile, vague aimlessly the track and I will stop only when I convince myself to be able to coordinate my movements with the beat of electronic music turned up full blast. Conviction, alas, that breaks immediately put to the test. The result is more or less what is observed on a human being hit from lightning. The hours go by, my senses are dulled. A girl approaches me.
"I go out to smoke a cigarette!"
I give my approval and also advise not to overdo it because it is known that smoking is unhealthy. Being now a infusion of alcohol, even I wonder why a girl that I've ever seen in my life feel the need to communicate its urgent need to suck nicotine. We see that requiring the name is no longer used. When he returns, he launches into a wild lap dance of which I am the post. Something inside me starts to come alive and are not neurons. I smile, vacant stare in the throes of unspeakable sexual fantasies. The reality takes over again: how could wish for a happy ending where everyone lives happily ever after at least a couple of hours, this will come true only in the best of all possible worlds , because this, unfortunately, I have rum and soul that my brain scan indicates the cessation of all sexual activities. Dejected, I walk away and, like lions when they sense that their time has come, I reach the furthest corners of the room and face the wall, drain the last bit of energy from deep in tribal dances as dark ritual significance. I do not have many memories than to an empty track, the lights on, silence. Something inside me tells me that it's time to go home.
The next day, still in bed in a darkened room, stare at the ceiling and I remember the missed opportunities of my life . What would have happened if that time I had acted differently. At the crossroads. And then, out of nowhere, get out here the voice of Enrico Ruggeri tells me "For me it's a no." Oh no, Henry, come on, you got the wrong program! Good week everyone!