Sexy salt, sexy time, and sexy boots


7-ish P.M.


Salzburg. We stayed in a really nice hostel. The first night, we went out to dinner and I had my first wienershnitzel. Battered and fried turkey. Not great. Gave me gas. Drank a beer that tasted like acetone. It was a cool restaurant, though. It was in a big, performance hall-type place. Cool decor. The next day we went on The Sound of Music Tour and to the Salt Mines. The SOMT was cool. Met a nice girl. Ate a nice pastry. Nothing overwhelmingly exciting. The Salt Mines tour was much more happenin’. Had to cover our clothes with this KKK-like ensemble. We took a ride on a little mine-kart-train-thing into the deep underground. Learned about the history and importance of salt from the Celts and on. Pretty fascinating shit. Slid down a fun slide. Thought I got a splinter in my ass. Rode a boat through the 10 cm deep “Salt River.” They played this weird ethereal music and there were lights everywhere. Who knew salt was so erotic? That place is definitely haunted. Took pics. Orbs everywhere. After the tour, our driver took us to this place that was completely flat, surrounded by huge snow-covered mountains. I felt very small. Saw Hitler’s Eagle’s Nest. Met a girl, Paulina, in our hostel and went to a beer hall with her. Taught her the Area Code Game*. Drank huge beers and ate dumplings. Delicious. Took the train to Germany the next day.


First of all, I love Munich. When we first arrived, we met this weirdo alien-lookin’ guy named Sean. He wanted to drive us to a castle. We declined. Then we met our roommate, Noah, a hot Jew from NY. Cool dude. I really wanted to go to a gay bar. Apparently Sean overheard this and came to our room…he’s gay. I suppose that explains some of his eccentricity. We end up going with him to this big Carnival party at a gay club. We can’t get in ’cause it’s too crowded. I hear “It’s Raining Men” bumping inside and become jealous of the club-goers. Sometimes a girl just needs to high-kick. After standing in line for a LONG time in the cold, we say fuck it. We go to another lil’ underground place, Carmen’s Room. At first it was kinda dead. I drink beer and eat delicious peanut butter puff snacks. The crowd would soon roll in.

They do.

I drink.

And dance.

And drink. And dance. I go to the WC and meet a hot 32-year-old woman  named Heidi. I go back and talk to her. And drink. And dance. Her older, Stone Butch Blues-esque friend encourages us to kiss. We do. She was a little too uptight to be “alley-worthy.” This discourages and disinterests me.

I eye-fuck another girl as I’m walking out of the club. I’m almost out the door when I feel someone tug on my arm. It was eye-fuck girl. We drink. And dance. I ask her if she wants to “go somewhere…” We do. Alley #2. Well, it was more like behind a building. I make her cum. God, I love to fuck.

Eye-fuck girl, whose name I also thought was Heidi, had to catch a train at 5:30 A.M. We try to catch a cab back to my place and end up at the train station because no one, including myself, knew where Wombat’s Hostel was (awesome hostel – definite favorite so far). After asking for help for like an hour, drunkenly eating pizza, and having “Heidi” translate German for me, I finally find out that the hostel is literally a block away. Actually less. I feel like a big drunk buffoon. “Heidi” walks back with me and decides to nap with me in my top bunk for 20 minutes until it’s time for her to board her train. “Hey baby, wanna climb up on my bunk?” Classy.

She ends up blowing off her train and sleeps with me until I have to wake up to take a tour of Dachau. At this point, I’ve had less than seven hours of sleep in two days: there was a laundry fiasco the night before in Salzburg that kept me up, and then the alley situation. I am exhausted, but am in no way gonna miss Dachau. “Heidi” gets up and walks to the station with us. She has to wait45 minutes for the train. I feel bad, but gotta go. I kiss her goodbye.

We meet up with our tour guide, Gordon, and embark on the tour. Even within the first ten minutes on the train, you could tell he was brilliant. And he had on “sexy boots.” That’s what he called them.

*Area Code Game: a rating system where the first number, 0-9, would rate the face of the person whom one is rating. The second number – 0 for no; 1 for yes – determines whether or not one would bang the person whom she or he is rating. The third number, again, 0-9, rates the body of the person whom one is rating. So, in all actuality, a 919 is the best area code one may get.


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