Damn women, damn demon alcohol!

Memory fragments appear:

I licked a dick, smashed liquor bottles on a table like a berserker, kissed a woman and said really clever sentences like: 'Hey Kirsten, you wild rabbit, listen up... sollkanivasi, well... salkumpf, no, wait, holkaniva, oh well, another round of Bachmann! Heeeeeiiii!

Hm...what happened...last night?

So the day after, I make an effort to lift the veil of forgetfulness to uncover the mystery of last night.

I can't see it yet, I can't grasp it yet... but a dull buzzing, a kind of murmuring breaks through my consciousness:

At first quietly, then louder and louder, rhythmic and then ominously rumbling like wild thunder:

Morlock! Morlock! Morlock!

Hahaha!

That's it! The 'Morlock'! The abyss of hell in Celler Bahnhofstraße, the den of iniquity, which, next to such respectable establishments as 'Zum Groben Otto' and 'Treff 69', on first glance looks innocent and staid, but then lures unsuspecting citizens and innocent schoolgirls and corrupts them forever.

And there I sat already in my men's underwear on the sofa, watching 'Wilsberg' on ZDF-Mediathek.

'Just for an hour, there are some nice colleagues...', I thought to myself.

If only I had known what awaited me, I would have poured myself a sparkling mineral water, put on my nightcap and went to bed. But no...what had to happen, happened.

The story is quickly told in the end...

When someone says 'You dare not.', of course, you have to do it as a real man. You have to prove that you can do it and that you do dare.

Right, isn't it? It's a matter of honor.

So I treated myself to an apple spritzer, then beers and schnapps in various colors, shapes and containers.

The evening progressed and strangers became friends, we hugged each other and sang soulful German songs like Oidorno's 'Shut up, I want to drink!'

At some point, my colleague who was celebrating her birthday was presented with a cake topped with chocolate dicks. (Ahhh, chocolate dicks! Phew, that answers an open question for me. Not that there was anything against it. I don't want to be put in a corner like that. So, chocolate dicks...

Boy, oh boy...that was close.)

I passionately kissed the birthday girl (After all, I didn't bring a gift...) and seconds before the infamous 'point of no return', I stumbled out of the bar and made my way home.

And so I managed to make it to my bed on a direct way. I slept like a baby kitten, woke up just before the alarm went off without a headache or nausea, and at 7.45 am, after a 25-minute walk, I was sitting at the Kurdish baker at the train station and at 8.40 am, I was on the train.

Mr. Schröder!

Getting drunk has to be learned.

In the end, I did it somehow well!

And the journey continues....