There’s a few horses outside, and a jackass up the hill. More on the jackass later. But occasionally a particular horse smell will waft up to the rooms. There’s a log bridge or three across the stream – I go down to one, and run into some kind of poisonous plant or nettle. It barely scrapes me, and blisters come boiling up. Fortunately, I leave them alone, except for a little spit, and they swiftly fade.

Later in the day, Omen come rolling in. We’ve gotten a little sleep, but they look like us, the day before. You can tell they’re not going to last too long. But Andy wants to walk down to the village with us (not far, half a mile or less). Sleep? No problem. He slept the entire flight. (what a bastard, I’m thinking.) He comes along (the others wisely stay behind) as far as the first bar – figures he’s seen enough, and goes back.
Well, actually, there isn’t too much – a few bars and restaurants, a couple of chickens, that sort of thing – but we’re in Germany, and want to see the German world. There’s a cool house that I think might be mine, because it has my initials over the door – on a closer look, it looks like the JMS is really JHS.

Upon spying the chicken, we recall that there’s supposed to be a very good chicken restaurant in town… I guess that’s why he looks so nervous. But where’s the eggs, then?

Ok, a beer, and back we go. (You guys that know me, know I don’t drink, so no beer for me.) The streets are virtually empty, it’s so damn peaceful you can’t believe it. A lot, actually, like the small towns I grew up in.

Jesus, look at all the wood. Must be enough to heat the whole town through two hard winters, maybe three. The fields are full of barley and hops, for making beer. (Imagine that.)

Back home, the Omen boys are wandering around the beer garden. “Where’s Andy?” Passed out cold. Sleeping. Dead to the world. Not quite so wide awake as he was boasting. Around this time, the Greek Armada comes sailing in. It comes in waves, with Battleroar, Greg and the boys, the girls, Michael (Michael and Greg do the magazine Singing Swords, one of the best), and all the rest (I feel like Gilligan’s Island, but if I list everybody, I’ll surely forget a name and make someone feel bad. So it’s the Greek Armada.) So we all sit around and drink – beer, of course. Yes, they make me drink, because I promised.

Omen’s guitar player (damn, I’m bad with names) had road rash down his left side, top to bottom – shoulder, leg… so I says, looks to me like someone laid their bike down on the left side. He says, “fuck you”, and shakes my hand. Bikers are the same everywhere.

We talk to Andy, from Iron Glory – he’s one of the people who want to talk record contract. So we do. And the outcome? Hm, maybe. Wait and see. Eventually Andy drags his ass out of bed and comes to join us all.

Battleroar gets a signed drum head from Omen…. Later, someone (I think Andy) brings them a matching head, with different sentiments. See photos.

The landlady is standing near me when the Armada rolls in. I point, and tell her, “these are hard drinking men.” Ja? Ja. I want to prepare her.

The rest of the day is a bit blurry, but it’s mostly BH, Omen, and the Armada drinking in the beer garden, with a few of the local regulars in and out. Also food – steak and pommes (French fries) for the most part. Eventually the day winds down, we sleep, and I listen to the water again. The days here are long; the sun comes up early, and goes down around 9pm. So it doesn’t really cool down until late.

Remember the Jackass? We discover him in the middle of the night, when he starts braying. I should say screaming. I’ve never heard one that loud before – and he was a quarter mile away. Incredibly loud. The first time we heard him, I looked to see if Bob was around.

SATURDAY:


Jesus, get a watch. How can you travel without a watch? I try a little longer, then get up – not quite as bad as yesterday, I think it was at least 6:30 before they woke me. Out to the balcony with some Pringles and dried beef, dried fruit and chocolate. Nope, I’m not starving – I always carry food traveling, just like at anime conventions. You’re a fool not to.

So the two fools get up and start bitching about how they’re starving. Although they do have a bit of food today; yesterday? (sometime) Tarek took us to the supermarket – and we nearly went nuts over how cheap the stuff was. The apple juice, soda… 1.5 liters, 25cents. Big fat imported (well, it would be, here) chocolate bars, about the same. Jack grabs some fruit, Bob grabs some orange juice, they both get a few gallons of bottled water. (and it’s nothing new, Bob lives on the stuff here, too…. It’s not an insult to Germany, Greece, or any other country, he just drinks bottled water.)

The balcony is nice in the morning, still in the shade – a bit of food, then pull out the guitars and check them over. I’ve got a bit of neck warpage from the change in climates, or the air flight, whatever – I’d like to adjust it, but didn’t bring any allen wrenches. It’s still playable, just that the action is a bit higher than I like. Guess I’ll leave it alone.

I wander around outside, by the stream, relax a bit, experimenting with the digital camera on water shots. Some cool effects, but I won’t bore you with them.

But you should see this shot of the carpet. Yep.

Ah, my friend, the cat. It’s outdoors, and if you know cats, when they’re outdoors, it’s beneath them to talk to people. I am the wild animal. Do not come near me. Hey, look, I saved a piece of lunch meat from breakfast.
Oh, my friend, it’s you. I didn’t recognize you, thought you were one of those humans. I’ll be right there.

Omen prepares to go to the sound check. They’re a bit antsy, and are waiting outside. The setup ran late; we were all supposed to go to the hall the night before, but it wasn’t ready. Shortly after they leave, we follow – I think it’s around 9 in the morning, or thereabouts. Omen does a bit of a soundcheck, and so do we, then I get to play around in the metal market.

There’s a lot of stuff I’d like to get, but don’t want to: a-pay the price, b-try to get it home in my luggage, the way they tear it apart. There’s also a lot of very expensive records, most of which I have in my collection, which makes me feel good. I meet 2 of the guys who bought records from me, which helped to pay for my plane ticket.

I get my first “Artist” badge… this is pretty cool. Although Bob yells that I’m out of the band if I have to wear it. (everyone should know who we are) I wear it anyway, although he’s mostly right; no one ever stops me at the doors.




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