Wednesday, August 28, 2013

NICHT FUN by Peter Nolan Smith

In the autumn of 1982 Henri Flesh and I flew to Berlin. We booked rooms at the Hotel Kempenski for a three-day holiday from BSir, Hamburg's most popular club. The DJ brought two grams of China White and I had an 8-Ball of Bolivian Pink. We shared everything and that night went out to the Dschungel in Charlottesburg, where we ran into a pair of Christina F lookalikes. All the girls wanted to be the sexy junkie refugee from the Zoo Station. These two were no exception. The next day the four of us went to East Berlin. My girl's name was Chloe. The ex-ballerina from Koln was as blonde as Ilsa of the SS. We passed through Checkpoint Charlie in a nod. The squat female border guard wasn't happy about letting us into the workers' paradise, but allowed us to exchange 25 DMs into East German currency. The Stasi or secret police had ways of dealing with our kind and two bland men followed us to Karl-Marx Platz, where a thin concrete spire rose into the September sky and a troop of armed Soviet soldier marched across the plaza. "There's parking everywhere." Henri wished that we had my BMW. "Here comes a car." Ilsa pointed to where a small car whined down the street. "Wooo, ein Trabant." The girls waved to the driver and explained to us that East Germans waited for years to purchase one. It sounded like a lawn mower. We drank bier in a restaurant. One big glass cost twenty-five pfennigs. I had enough money for a hundred beers and bought a round for everyone in the restaurant. The Stasi too. Afterward we went shopping except there was nothing to buy in the shops. "Maybe we could score some drugs." Ilsa entered a pharmacy. She exited in a huff. "They were only selling steroids." "Last thing I want is to look like an East German female athlete." Henri joked to the laughter of the girls. The Communist competitor were three times the man I would ever be in real life. "Us too." The girls acted out weighing weights. The Stasi were no amused. "Wir zuruckgehen nach Ost." I had had enough of East Berlin. Communism was a failure under the Soviets as much as capitalism sold everyone's soul in the West and we gave our remaining East German DMs to a young boy. He looked at the Stasi agents and threw them on the ground, then ran down the street. Ilsa rested her head on my shoulder and the sunset "Ich bin fertig." And I knew what Ilsa was ready for and waved 'niewiedersehen' to the Stasi agents. Unlike Ilsa they were no fun at all.

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