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My grandfather is one of those people that literally never met a stranger (okay, I know I'm misusing "literally"). He wouldn't let a little thing like language barriers get in the way of "shooting the shit". When he visited us in Texas he would chat it up with people he knew didn't speak a lick of German. He didn't speak any English either but would still talk about how hot it was, how horrible the streets are, and the shoddy construction of hand rails at the Ft Worth Zoo. You know, typical stuff. Mostly other people wouldn't mind smiling and nodding. They probably just thought he was a senile old fart.
One time we were walking through Lowe's Home Improvement store and he said something to a random employee in passing as we were looking for whatever. Much to his excitement, she spoke German and responded to him. I wish I remember what that was all about.
Anyway, the summer between my junior and senior year of high school, my brother and I went to visit my grandparents for the season. One day my grandfather took me to the indoor saltwater pools in his hometown. Nice place, mainly patronized by old folks. While I'm swimming around he was talking to some old blue hair.
As I am leaving the pool for the locker room area the two of them inform me that they didn't know each other but that I will help her granddaughter at the airport and on the plane on my way home. I guess I was to make sure she didn't get lost, skip customs, let a stranger give her a bag, or whatever. Coincidentally she happened to be flying from Frankfurt airport to DFW the same flight as me. What are the odds? I look at the girl and she's a year or two younger than I am, and she is gorgeous. I was going to be a hero. Me, the veteran of being the “grownup” of three international flights, would gallantly lead her from the gate, to a plane, to baggage claim, and through customs. This would obviously lead to losing my virginity. I would be the guy with a girlfriend in another town, but for real! Best summer ever.
So we left the swimming place and I would meet my future conquest in a month or so.
Germans, Europeans really, are just like Americans. The main differences are that they smoke a lot more, have free health care, and have smaller portion sizes. Oh, and they are much less conservative. Guess they grew out of that decades ago. I discovered that summer that after midnight, about 1 am or so, some basic cable channels aired porn. Basic cable. Like imagine turning on History Channel on a Tuesday morning at 2 am. Instead of airing Pawn Stars or some other fake reality show they have Debbie Does Dallas. Gold mine for a teenager. Don't judge. They have like 1 quarter the teen pregnancy rate as the much more prudish USA. I know, weird right?
Debbie Does Dallas may sound a bit dated, but it's completely appropriate. This was like 1999. The smut that they were peddling was 70s or 80s porno in all its glory. Hair where more modern “actresses” wouldn't have it. Lots of hair. And big hair too, glorious perms. The makers of these movies probably had stock in Aquanet. And the eye makeup.
Oh man the eye makeup. These women looked like the cover of a Poison album.
Yes, I know that those were men on those album covers.
Oh man the eye makeup. These women looked like the cover of a Poison album. Yes, I know that those were men on those album covers.
There is that danger zone in TV audio. That sweet spot between muted and too loud. You can barely hear the sound but is it too loud? Press up on volume one more time and bam! It's like you are in the pit at an Anthrax concert. Why can't we engineer a TV that turns the volume up on a TV in a nice, equal, predictable amount with each press of the button? Scientists, get on it.
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| Nutso Alex says, "chill out bro." |
The room with the TV had a door that didn't lock. In the wall directly across from where the TV sat was the vent where the furnace heats the room. You could see through that vent to the hallway in front of my grandparents bedroom. Of course this means you could totally see into the room from the other side of the wall too. Yeah, I made sure to close that baby. But was it really closed all the way? That thought was always in the back of my mind. I was sure there was nothing more interesting to do than to spy on me from the hallway.
My brother is eight years younger than I am and at this time he was like eight. A real pain in the ass. Watching the smut was living on the edge. Just as exciting as witnessing a guy that looks like John Oates and his magnificent mustache plow a girl looking like Tommy Lee from the Shout at the Devil Tour, is the chance of getting caught doing something really really bad. That was definitely on the table if my brother woke up. We had to share a queen size bed. If he woke up and I wasn't there, he needed to find me.
To a teenage boy rubbing one out is the greatest thing in the world, but also the most shameful thing. We never talked about it. It wasn't until years later I figured out that everybody did it, that it was actually no big deal. Watching the forbidden movies was not very enjoyable. But it had to be done. If somebody offers you a sandwich when you are starving you accept, even if you don't like bologna. Ignoring the porn would practically be rude.
When we were at the airport at the end of the summer, my grandfather took me to a store. The store didn't have a sign, just beads hanging in the doorway. At least that's how I remembered it. I wasn't paying attention, just following my hero into some anonymous shop. Inside the store was porn. Massive amounts of porn. Straight porn, gay porn, fetish porn. Certainly a wider variety than what could be seen on cable TV. My grandfather picked up a tape with an interracial couple on it and asked if that's for me. He had a thing for pointing out black women to me. To him they were so exotic. So forbidden. There were dildos and whips, etc...He grabbed a box with a strap-on on it and asked if I needed it. He has a twisted sense of humor and knows he was torturing me. Seemed like making me uncomfortable was his delight. I wanted out so bad, it was the most embarrassing moment of my life. We left the store with no loot in hand.
Immediately upon exiting that fine establishment we ran into the old lady and the girl from the geezer spa. THIS was the most embarrassing moment of my life. The store was called Beate Uhse. I have no idea what the hell that means, but of course this girl knew what it was. She had to. The only thing that made this sort of bearable was that I think my grandfather was possibly mortified at the situation as well.
We get on the plane and I avoid the girl. I do not seek her out. I do not help her at baggage claim. I do not help her through customs. I do not see her again.
Soon I would be back at school to begin my senior year. Summer would be over and my virginity would be preserved.
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If I had to pick a song to be the soundtrack to this post it would be...
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| Myself (in hat) with my brother, my Opa and some cousins. 1999 Neustadt an der Ashe Germany. |
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