The guys in the center are the guys
“Stupid Mother F%#k! Denk an die Kinder! Stupid! Die F#$ker!”
It was a sunny, hot day in Vienna. After three coffee conference days filled with cappuccino quaffing followed with beer drinking, we headed across the Danube to the Old Danube, an oxbow of the river where Viennese gather to swim, row and sun bathe.
“So you think I can change here?” I asked as people milled around on the crowded beach, no changing rooms in sight.
My friend Anna (a Finn living in Vienna) replied in the affirmative. “Yeah, I don’t see why not. We do it all the time.”
And so I quickly yanked off my pants and in the blink of an eye pulled up my swimming trunks – literally, blink -of-an-eye, no extra jiggles, nothing – and sat back down in the grass between my friends. We began talking about the hotel where my friend stayed on the weekend and the prostitutes that gathered down the road.
All the while, in the background I could hear someone muttering.
“Mother F*#ker! F&#*ing sh*t!”
I thought they were referring to me, but it was hard to tell. Anna assured me that it was fine what I had done. There were women wandering around topless. Naked kids all over the place, and men in Speedos that left less to the imagination than if they wore nothing at all.
But the cursing got clearer and closer. Continue reading