Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. Probably. We did two sell-out shows in Berlin. And they sensibly put a party in between the two shows, rather than after the second. I was already shattered and starting to succumb to the orchestra-AIDS which is ripping through the group but I didn't want to look anti-social. Plus Laura the Chilean soloist had earmarked me as her dancing partner.
We'd finish at around 11.30, a half-hour drive to the hotel, ten minutes to check in then a half-hour drive back. The club is an old Burlesque place called the Winterhalle so I was looking forward to Liza Minelli-alikes sashaying up and down the bar hitting people with a cane.
I didnt relish the prospect of commencing libations at 12.30 so I hit upon a masterstroke- drink as much beer on the bus as possible, therefore being tipsy when i got there, dancing and flirting for two hours then going back to my suite (the only perk of booking the rooms) to "close the curtains'' (see previous blog) and awake early to explore the old East Germany before work at 12.30.
I also had some free drinks tickets for the hotel and surmised it would be wrong not to wring as much out of them as possible.
So I was pretty trashed when I arrived, black shirt half unbuttoned, and was quickly accosted by said Chilean for some salsa dancing. She gave me her badly-made Caiprinha which had the texture of broken glass. This happened four or five times.
Then I had a bitof a boogie with Dawn from the Gospels, another reason for me to be nervous. We've been on dates in Maastricht but she broke the news to me that, although rocky, she has a boyfriend in New York. Presumably who weighs 18-stone and wouldn't think twice about poppin a cap in a honky's ass.
So I babbled some incoherent 'I'm not avoiding you, I just feel a little nervous because I really like you and I wish something could happen between and I'd like to wear your ass as a hat for all eternity' She looked suitably bemused.
Then I opted to stick with my pal Tim, who told Laura that I'd slept with one of the other Gospels on a previous bender. It was better that sleeping on the bus anyway so I figured what the hell?
Then someone put a wreath of flowers on my head and the rest, as they say, is black.
I woke butt naked up in my suite at 11am with no recollection of leaving the club or anything afterwards. I was actually afraid to turn over inc ase there was a burly hell's angel there. Amazingly I had my camera and everything else with me, and no visible signs of vomitus.
It was check-out time so I retreated to the bus and tried to sleep, but just lay there for 3 hours, my mouth watering.
My boss doesn't drink. Never has. Not even coffee. He was hella pissed at me.
So as well as that awful feeling of not knowing what I'd done and to whom, there was the very real possibility of being fired. The boss would barely look me in the eye.
Every crew-member I passed would smirk upon sight and make the usual standard wisecracks so I felt it necessary to apologise to every female orchestra-member I may have come into contact with.
At the end of the night Pierre announced he'd be gone for a week and I was in charge in his absence. Which I guess is why I wasn't fired on the spot.
So now I have a week to straighten up, fly right and hope nothing bad happens so I can worm my way back into favour.
On the plus-side though, it's probably made me closer to the other crew-members. Apparently I was 'funny-drunk', not swearing or smashing things. Richard the light-guy had seen me in the lobby at about 7am, trying to get another drink with the aforementioned wreath of flowers still on my head.
I think Dawn, a non-drinker, was a bit shocked at my state though. So that's probably the end of that one. Now I have to convince Laura that I didn't sleep with the other Gospelleria if I'm ever to get into that bodice.
Sigh...
We'd finish at around 11.30, a half-hour drive to the hotel, ten minutes to check in then a half-hour drive back. The club is an old Burlesque place called the Winterhalle so I was looking forward to Liza Minelli-alikes sashaying up and down the bar hitting people with a cane.
I didnt relish the prospect of commencing libations at 12.30 so I hit upon a masterstroke- drink as much beer on the bus as possible, therefore being tipsy when i got there, dancing and flirting for two hours then going back to my suite (the only perk of booking the rooms) to "close the curtains'' (see previous blog) and awake early to explore the old East Germany before work at 12.30.
I also had some free drinks tickets for the hotel and surmised it would be wrong not to wring as much out of them as possible.
So I was pretty trashed when I arrived, black shirt half unbuttoned, and was quickly accosted by said Chilean for some salsa dancing. She gave me her badly-made Caiprinha which had the texture of broken glass. This happened four or five times.
Then I had a bitof a boogie with Dawn from the Gospels, another reason for me to be nervous. We've been on dates in Maastricht but she broke the news to me that, although rocky, she has a boyfriend in New York. Presumably who weighs 18-stone and wouldn't think twice about poppin a cap in a honky's ass.
So I babbled some incoherent 'I'm not avoiding you, I just feel a little nervous because I really like you and I wish something could happen between and I'd like to wear your ass as a hat for all eternity' She looked suitably bemused.
Then I opted to stick with my pal Tim, who told Laura that I'd slept with one of the other Gospels on a previous bender. It was better that sleeping on the bus anyway so I figured what the hell?
Then someone put a wreath of flowers on my head and the rest, as they say, is black.
I woke butt naked up in my suite at 11am with no recollection of leaving the club or anything afterwards. I was actually afraid to turn over inc ase there was a burly hell's angel there. Amazingly I had my camera and everything else with me, and no visible signs of vomitus.
It was check-out time so I retreated to the bus and tried to sleep, but just lay there for 3 hours, my mouth watering.
My boss doesn't drink. Never has. Not even coffee. He was hella pissed at me.
So as well as that awful feeling of not knowing what I'd done and to whom, there was the very real possibility of being fired. The boss would barely look me in the eye.
Every crew-member I passed would smirk upon sight and make the usual standard wisecracks so I felt it necessary to apologise to every female orchestra-member I may have come into contact with.
At the end of the night Pierre announced he'd be gone for a week and I was in charge in his absence. Which I guess is why I wasn't fired on the spot.
So now I have a week to straighten up, fly right and hope nothing bad happens so I can worm my way back into favour.
On the plus-side though, it's probably made me closer to the other crew-members. Apparently I was 'funny-drunk', not swearing or smashing things. Richard the light-guy had seen me in the lobby at about 7am, trying to get another drink with the aforementioned wreath of flowers still on my head.
I think Dawn, a non-drinker, was a bit shocked at my state though. So that's probably the end of that one. Now I have to convince Laura that I didn't sleep with the other Gospelleria if I'm ever to get into that bodice.
Sigh...
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