среда, 24 октября 2007 г.

From ocean giants, flaky phones and former Schiffshebewerken

J. calls me. My phone has orange shed in the back-light glisten and a red Santa Claus hat. With Plüschbommel. It does not ring, it barks. Some surprised me. J's voice sounds like always.

"Can you come to the port and help me?"
"Clearly, what is going on?"
"I can not get the ocean steamer auszuparken. It is so close here and I want none of the other ships ram. "
"But I have also never been an ocean steamer out."
"Do nothing. The do you already. "
"Mnnhääähhhhmnjoa ... well now."

I schwinge me on my bike and race towards the quay. Like a verknotetes jumble of arms and crane ship's masts me the harbor skyline. In which city I am, nobody knows, I do not. I Abgehetzt curve between Container round towers, close to the dark schwabbernden floods. J. is here, but where is her giant ocean?

"Den but I prefer at home. But we desperately need these trucks drive to Bielefeld, there is bright green, fermented milk in it, and all truck drivers refuse to transport the stuff. One company will then buy the stuff. "
"We, I think, right?"
"We said Du."
"And why again? I am not MacGyver, no nuclear warheads from Nussnougatriegeln and tissues handicrafts and I have no truck driving license. "
"You already do."

I climbed into the driver's cabin. Everything goes like clockwork. Huh, I can drive trucks. I easily control the ultratief droning Vierzigtonner by strudelaufwärtsführende roads, the guidelines in the middle goldglänzend shine. An electric guitar falls from the sky. I drive accidentally drüber. A long bomb laying at the roadside shrieks curses me behind. We happen to a former ship, which now serves as Bratwursthebewerk. And it beeps. Unentwegt. Lots. Faster. Bratwursthebe ... Bratwu ... Brat ... "Are you now totally?" , I asked, still half in a dream. Then, shortly after the curtain scans. I am awake. A strange night. A much seltsamerer dream. As someone once said, you need strange trip for drugs. You need sleep.

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