Train to Munich (Parts one thru three)

Train to Munich

(October, 1970)

Introductory Chapter: We had met a girl once from Denmark (met her at the October Fest of 1970, in Munich), and he dated her for a while thereafter by going to Denmark to see her—yes, he had gone to Denmark to date her; I remember meeting her, and she was a doll, dark bronze skin, healthy from the breast to her little toes. Like I said, He met her at one of the big fest with me then Ski went to Denmark to be with her during one of his ten-day vacations; only to come back and say she smoked pot, and took some LSD when he was with her, along with some other drugs, and he tried to reform her and she got mad and told him the relationship wouldn’t work, and to be quite frank, Ski hated drugs, and she was lucky to get away from him. I think when I was with him I really didn’t want to meet anyone, kind of claustrophobic of some form of impending disaster to befall me. But the train to Munich was a blast, there again we almost got into a predicament.

1

Chapter

As we got off the train (Ski and I) we were distinguishable as a sack of brown potatoes, amongst white laundry bags, walking through the train station, out its doors, then outside onto the sidewalk, at 5:00 AM, I witnessed right away young folks walking, waking up, from few hours sleep in the corners of the train station, sacks in their hands, or laying beside them, or laying on them, the renowned October Fest, in Germany was going on, and this was the place to be, or at least the place I wanted to be. No reservations needed, just ones body.

Several young Germans were walking on the opposite side of the sidewalk; several blocks from the train station, where Ski and I crossed over to the other side, “You speak English?” asked Ski, to the group. They looked at us strangely; we simply wanted to find our way to the fairgrounds. Ski was abrupt with his way of producing or trying to produce, dialogue.

“American GI´s” a voice from the group said. Ski lifted his eyebrows, I figured this would be a fight, or it was at least in the makings.

“No, we’re reporters from New York City…”said Ski. Thus, we got a lot more respect instantly. “We’re from a …” (a magazine, can’t remember which one he said, but they were impressed, and so was I that we could get away with such a fib).

I felt something like a volt of electricity in the air, after this mirage was created.

Chapter II

—We then walked about Munich for a number of hours, I saw an old bum laying drunk on the sidewalk, everyone just stepped over him or around him, and I stopped and starred at him. “Come on…!” Said Ski, let’s get on to the fest. And so I did. And then we found a big beer hall, and we couldn’t pass it, or I couldn’t, and we stopped in it and had a few beers. Then we got to the fest, the October Fest, and it was huge, with big beer tents. It was perhaps 11:00 AM. We walked about for a while, I didn’t want to get drunk too quick, so I slowly drank, and found a place to rest under a shade tree, on an embankment, where a lot of hippies were, that evening, Ski and I would return there to rest again, and watch all the hippies sack out for the evening, having their own personal picnics.

Then we went on to the big beer tent. I was getting drunk now, and ended up dancing on the tables with folks I never knew. I was talking to a woman later on at the entrance of a beer tent, I had said a few words in German, and she rattled on for an hour, and she thought I could understand her, but I could only understand ever fifth word or so, which I suppose was good enough. Then Ski came along, said he had met this gal, and he’d introduce her to me shortly, and we both went to the bathroom, and some guy took a picture of us, urinating, and Ski blew up, grabbed his camera and broke it in front of him, and the guy almost cried. “Let’s get out of here,” I told Ski, in case the police took his side. And we left the tent, and then the gal showed up, and he introduced her to me; lovely as could be, bronze and youthful, with a nice shape.

Our ride back to Augsburg, on the train would not be so exciting, we were both tired, and wanted to rest somewhat. Which was good for me because I didn’t want to be confronted by the conductor, and his crowed again like on the way down; We ended up in his cabin, because Ski wanted something, and pushed the porter, and a fight right in his cabin was mounting, and there was three or four of them, and two of us, but I was ready, and Ski was more than ready, but I smoothed it out, at the last second.