Take a cosy Polish ferry from Sweden or anywhere to Swinemuende,
Svinoucije, yes the Westerplatte, where the second World War started,
yes it started with this, sorry about that and I do not say the Polish
were responsible for it, never, nor do I claim Hitler was Polish, But I
really don’t know why the Polish want to call it Swinoucije. I would
never think that but otherwise…. take that bloody Polish ferry and just
greet the elderly and dangerously slim Polish lady sitting there at the entrance in Sweden at
the gate as if she was a crew member with her fancy uniform like blue
dress and be harassed for that as a typical idiot from the Serbs
come here to us to steal everything and take me as if I am a whore and later get a complaint from a steward on the ferry that you have
harassed her just for one hello out of politeness and you have not even
been there yet, in Poland, but just stepping on a Polish ferry from
Sweden. The world changes to such an extent, that you take the bleak and
dull looks of the truck drivers for serious who hang around at the ferry.
Ok then, go to the bar on a Polish ferry and be the only guest there.
Yes; I decided to do what everybody always did when travelling on a ferry when we had a Western civilization that rooted somewhere between the Vikings, the Saxons and the Franks plus the Mediterrenean: have a beer or 10 and some whisky, vodka or whatever but nobody is doing it anymore because it is regarded as inappropriate behaviour because it causes socializing and community and that causes raised eybrows in Europe now at least. And there you meet them again, the AOI. I sit there at the bar, bloody alone, the only one on this bloody Polish ferry able to drink at a bar and order Kocel beer with the horny goat on it that tastes now like a gay youth hostel with attached girl boarding school is responsible for the recipe. Sickening sweet and without any hops or whatever their ways were to ruin it for almost ever and I drank it because I wanted to be polite, my document bag beside me because I did not want to leave it in the cabin and I was wondering why suddenly everything appeared so calm and peaceful. I was still the only guest at that bar not counting the two stewarts with indifferent cool Polish faces, pretending to serve a huge crowd of thirsty men and a couple of cool girls. Suddenly I stood up and I did not know why and was back in my cabin and felt no more sorrows and pain but just the desire to rest to be in a new adventure called Poland tomorrow. And it did start the new adventure because I was till functioning like a machine without any sorrows in the morning. I had no hangover, had no headaches but was just like a nice and soundless machine without any problems when I was walking around the deck and reached the bar area by accident where a suddenly annoyed and fearful stewart shouted: „what do you want?“ and when I looked at him with cold eyes because I was still amachine he gave me my document bag back that they had stolen the evening before by slipping me a mickey in my beer. But he was highly annoyed about my personality and angry because I had only pictures of my family and personal documents in it. KURVA. No, they did not give it back yesterday evening, nor did they apologize or show any reaction to me when I showed up. They gave me the first blink of the Polish soul I did not understand at all. Nobody elsewhere would have given me that back personally because of that shame. They would have thrown that into the sea or just put it back in my cabin secretely. They did not understand my state of soul either because I did not react but said: “Thank you and be blessed“ Any normal Pole would have shouted €žKurva€œ (the only word you must know as a male person visting Poland because it describes the reaction to anything in the Polish behaviour context, that is not average Polish. An artist is today KURVA in Poland i.e. but not before lets say 1997).
That is still the basic reaction of an average low or middle class Polish man on the street to any kind of frustration or even nowadays to things they do not know or understand. I failed on my first day and still on the ferry but legally saying on Polish soil because it was a Polish ferry under Polish flag so I was cautious if they do not throw me into the Baltic Sea.
But how to they slip a mickey in a draft beer you might ask? Very simple. It is already in the glass as a totally transperant liquid like a few drops of water. Keep that in mind and not only in Poland.
So I was the happy finder of my document bag consisting of basic as university degrees, diplomas, birth certificates etc. but wondered that I did not care about it and also not about that Polish lady that was always backtalking against me on board that I was a horrible Serb from Zentralverwaltung Belgrad and trying to steal from the Polish and fuck all Polish women in sight who was walking between my legs from the beginning of that ferry journey. I still remember her insect like eyes, her lean face with outfashioned glasses and curly hair from Schwartzkopf Dauerwellen and her meagre body. Lady, I worship you, if it that what it takes I would have banged you in may cabin!
But the Mickey made it all sound there on board and after because it was a Deluxe Mickey and nothing mattered to me really Also not the moustached taxi driver waiting for me at the pier. “Kurva, wo willst Du hingehen?”€œ – where do you want to go?. He spoke German with broad Polish accent because we were landed at Swinemuende, or Swinoucije, the infamous Westerplatte where Hitler started Germanys first succes tour in Europe before Merkel took over the EU. So it was the AOI at its best. It did not cross my mind because of its altered state, that this was no coincidence because all other travellers were avoided by him as hell. I did not look good at all according to Polish S›tandards with my black anarchist coat by Pierre Cardin (original, hahaha and it is still going strong that jacket) as the Spanish Guardia Civil calls it and a hair a bit too long plus a face they perceived as €žJewish although I was only halve Sorbian and not Jewish at all, but they hate the Sorbs too I had to find out.
The taxi driver was the worst stereotyping image of a horrible Polish taxi driver in general and began to talk about my future plans because I told him I was about to have a swimming vacations at Westerplatte in April when it was just snowing on his old Benz and he answered:
“€žbig Hupe and great ass like horse to make fuck fuck die Votze an den Strand. Fotze bleibt immer kannst Du ficken immer rein, ist kein Stück Seife”
That means that he had some old prostitute with huge breast and giant ass and a willing vagina for me who is absolutely durable and takes it all. All sizes and forms and hour and day long. I distracted the conversation to football because I am still suffering from my experiences with older relatives being recommended like that from taxidrivers and hangarounds in Belize. But this can’t be described without touching the realms of Colonel Kurtz but in sumary: this did not work out really, but we had all our climaxes and some fun, that was for sure. Football meant Cologne to him, the 1. FC Köln, and he concluded his Kurva rant about football that he could drive me home that 300 km to Cologne where I could meet another relative of him who is on social welfare stamps and I could join her by drinking myself to death with Jägermeister, while being myself on social welfare and living in Köln-Kalk, a rundown neighborhod for junkies, alcoholics, old German workers class remnants and members of the Turkish ruling party and islamists. I did not know how to react that outbreak of empathy featured by the AOI because I was still heavily numbed and on the same hand delighted by the one Kozel beer of that sturdy and faceless Polish stewards on the ferry and asked him again to drive me to a cheap hostel in Swinemuende when he stopped at Grand Hotel with Spa for old and disabled Germans to drive his empathy for my situation to the peak. "€žNo, I asked you for a cheap pension, not for a luxury resort" - "€žKURVA, it is just 90 Euros and you wanted swimming, there is the beach"€œ he said while a snowstorm set again with heavy clouds of huge snowflakes around us in covering the scenery in white and also here are many fat old German lady for you". I decided to give up and stepped out of the car and pretened to check in to set him loose because he seemed to have some kind of agenda -special harassement Polish style by the AOI – but he followed me to the reception desk where the typical Polish female De Luxe receptionist was waiting: polite from the first moment, not ovewhelmingly attractive, a bit chubby not to say fatty in appearance and always willing to take a man as he is: as a stupid idiot only there in a hotel without women or family or companions to screw every female around. Otherwise he shouts KURVA all day, has his hands in the pocket and looks like a complete idiot. So I was standing at a huge recption desk on the Westerplatte watched by a moustached KURVA Polish taxidriver and a receptionist who wanted to sell me at least a 90 Euro room in a hotel complex inhabited 99% by retired old German who praised the architects of the 3rd Reich as well as their “€žAngela, die Kanzlerin, hach ja”€œ .
“€žOK, I book for a complete breakfast here”€œ said and €žyes, that is 35 Szlotyœ said the recptionist followed by another €žKURVA and angry moves of the taxidriver who seemed to try to hit me but I evaded that but his fist fighting attempts did not even raise an eybrowe among the Poles around. Finally he pissed off with some more Kurvas and my thank you very much Sir, that was briliant€œ and I was waiting to eat there watching a crowd of old Germans fighting for the first place in a row at the feeding desks eagerly controlled by Polish waiters who obvioulsy hated them. “€žWhat a nice display of all evil the EU has to offer”€œ said to myself: €žBeing forced to live with people you hate in an environment that was set up by people you hate just for the cheap price because you get the lowest pensions in Europe because you follow idiots you elect again and again for exactly doing that to you and everybody else for the sake of controlling everything and receive an imitation of medical treatment called Spa. And the Poles treat you for breakfast as if this is the waiting line for water soup in a concentration camp and even that they do not realize. Nothing has changed with you, congratulations”
I stood in line at the entrance of the dining hall just thinking that and began to be pissed about the exremely slow queue passing a control checkpoint. After 30 minutes I stood face to face a smiling Polish steward who could not believe his eyes that I was about to enter the Holy Halles but I convinced him that I payed for everything and he was off course absolutely sure that I was only there to screw some old German ladies for money but he did not say that but he smiled in such a slimey and derogative way that there were no further questions asked. Be aware when travelling in Poland that this is the main obstacle in sight for you when you try to stay anywhere in that country. I call it the KURVA phenomenon. They just can not think any other way and it will be held against you that they always think that way.
After that breakfast I was politely led out of the hotel I did not want to stay in by switching on all avalaible light spots, halogen etc. and pointed them to me only when I seated myself in the lobby to check the internet and being approached by nice German voices directed to me by sudden sofa companions: “Gehen Sie mal schnell rüber über die Grenze, da kann man noch mehr verdienen, Sie wissen schon “€“ cross the border to Germany quickly, you can earn much more there” . Yes, I felt at home. Suddenly aware that Germany again cared for me in their subtle, and caring, empathic way so I moved away to search for an affordable accomodation in Swinoucije, the infamous Westerplatte in West-Pommerania, where the Führer tried to reorder Europe and that is now completely independent from the Germans.
No living soul was able and willing in the whole town to assist me in my search, all taxidrivers turned away because I did not want to stay in that completely German occupied Hotel cum Spa. “Pension? Pensiona? Kurva, what is Pension?”€œ And so on until they began to grin and smile and I understood that is was done, done again. The tourist information was about the same quality: two Polish women denying any information about cheap accomodation but instantly suggesting that I was only there to let €žmy balls be dangled around€œ as the Germans say, meaning €ž"der lässt sich hier die Eier schaukeln"€œ . So that subtle feeling of discomfort developed based on that unique stereotyping the Kurva way everywhere in Poland. I was led friendly out of the tourist office gaining absolutely no result again and walked towards a signboard with the city map and was approached by a couple watching me interested when I asked them: "Do you know KurvaKurva road?" €œ and the answer came as quick as bullet from a MG42: "Nu glaor, Sie, das iss zwee mal rechts ein moal links und dann gradeaus woe die Musike spielt"€œ, in best East-German tongue available and I knew I was in good hands because the two knew exactly what they were doing and at all cheap pensions€œ available I was turned away with a sarcastic knowingly grin.
So I took a train to the next baltic beach village where I was fucked over by another Polish moustached taxidriver "€žDrive me to a cheap pension please" and I have to admit that it is quite difficult to fuck me over after 38 years of travelling by simply driving me around the corner to another €žGrand Hotel€œ were only German cars were parking until I shouted: €žno, no, no, I said pension, not German Grand Hotel€œ and tried to bang my forehead on his dashboard to imitate his Kurva attitude to completely ignore my wishes as his customer and my shere existence. He did not react at all, that was it. I gave him his 20 Zlotys because the worst thing you can do is to annoy a taxidriver, even if he demands a blowjob on the sidewalk from you - that happended to me back home where I was blackmailed and harassed by an Iranian, no let’s say Persian driver since he worshipped the dead Shah for denying him a blowjob on the sidewalk in front of my house just because "€žhe had heard, that I might have indulged in a homosexual act once or twice" . It doesn’t matter that he was high on something again when he did this in public by the way because taxidrivers in the west have the right to do this now because nobody controls them and they are in power because of their number and they might slip on einformation or two to the….police, right or wrong does not matter because they “just €ždo things and are polite to police” sometimes.
So I went off with my travel bag and tried to check in a hotel or whatever they had in display in that cosy Baltic beach town and was told an incredible high price in the first and a typical cheap price, 75 Sloty in the second one, a two and a half star hotel. I was checked in off course by a female Polish receptionist this time a much nicer blond and slim version who gave me look as if I was the rapist-strangler freshly washed ashore the Baltic beach and handed me over the keys to my room by simply throwing it on the desk. So I threw 80 Slotys back and went off and this made her immediately my whore in advance without my knowledge but she was looking after me as if I asked her to meet me in the church for a wedding with her or two maybe. In my room I felt good because it was the typcal cheap but well furnished and clean Polish hotel room with a TV and a fridge an a huge bed with fresh towels and everything you need. I looked outside the window and saw a pittoresque Polish small town street scene in the countryside with old houses, narrow, winding lanes and old fashioned street lanternes, a chimney with a storks nest and started to really feel better. I forgot the idiotic undermining taxidrivers, the German Guck und Horch couple, the horrible receptionists, the AOI behind it and started to think: maybe I can take that nice blond receptionist out and bone her later without paying or just gifting her or whatever when I awoke from my slumber around three o’clock in the night with all lights on and the fridge humming and noising and a bright 2000 watt light shining from the outside against my window, that had just a translucent gardine so I lay there in the brightest light ever in hotel and thought: KURVA. I tried to switch it off but all efforts failed so I went down to see everything locked and the receptionist gone.
So I tried to cover myself with all sheets and blankets they had in the room and waited for the morning to come because breakfast was included and I wanted to ask that recptioniste if I could add up to that 5 Sloty tip so we could settle our dispute of not boning her or whatever. But at 8, when suddenly the light was out and the fridge back to normal there was a typical Polish receptionist waiting for me, chubby, 160 cm tall with glasses from the early seventies and short curly black hair made by Dauerwellen from Schwartzkopf company who said: “breakfast over there until 9″€œ In the breakfast room there were only Germans from the lower strata of society who looked at me as if I had just been washed ashore at the Baltic beach : “€žda hat wohl einer schlecht geschlafen, was”€œ and then I was treated with all disrespect Germans have for alleged misbehaving they have €ž"heard about". I looked outside the window and saw a German turbo car with a license plate from Düsseldorf and 666 number on the plate.
While eating from the Polish buffet with a lot of pastry and strange creams with unknown tastes I heard the remark of a Polish employee of that hotel in German to his German friends: “€žJetzt frisst die blöde Sau sich auch noch voll hier”€œ suggesting to all the other guests that I had misbehaved profoundly last night when I was just alone in my room and should be taken care of by maybe angry taxidrivers or Polish Nazis with black woolen caps from the cast of "Hostel" maybe, or the AOI I avoided all ugly sidelooks and got the fuck out of there while the chubby receptionist totally ignored me when I gave back the room key and walked to the railway station being ignored by all streetwalkers to an extent that they did not know one word of German or English anymore and beeing cursed by the constrcution workers on the streets I passed but made it into the train to Gdansk. "Kurva!"
Copyright by Ronald C. Kaiser 2018
Yes; I decided to do what everybody always did when travelling on a ferry when we had a Western civilization that rooted somewhere between the Vikings, the Saxons and the Franks plus the Mediterrenean: have a beer or 10 and some whisky, vodka or whatever but nobody is doing it anymore because it is regarded as inappropriate behaviour because it causes socializing and community and that causes raised eybrows in Europe now at least. And there you meet them again, the AOI. I sit there at the bar, bloody alone, the only one on this bloody Polish ferry able to drink at a bar and order Kocel beer with the horny goat on it that tastes now like a gay youth hostel with attached girl boarding school is responsible for the recipe. Sickening sweet and without any hops or whatever their ways were to ruin it for almost ever and I drank it because I wanted to be polite, my document bag beside me because I did not want to leave it in the cabin and I was wondering why suddenly everything appeared so calm and peaceful. I was still the only guest at that bar not counting the two stewarts with indifferent cool Polish faces, pretending to serve a huge crowd of thirsty men and a couple of cool girls. Suddenly I stood up and I did not know why and was back in my cabin and felt no more sorrows and pain but just the desire to rest to be in a new adventure called Poland tomorrow. And it did start the new adventure because I was till functioning like a machine without any sorrows in the morning. I had no hangover, had no headaches but was just like a nice and soundless machine without any problems when I was walking around the deck and reached the bar area by accident where a suddenly annoyed and fearful stewart shouted: „what do you want?“ and when I looked at him with cold eyes because I was still amachine he gave me my document bag back that they had stolen the evening before by slipping me a mickey in my beer. But he was highly annoyed about my personality and angry because I had only pictures of my family and personal documents in it. KURVA. No, they did not give it back yesterday evening, nor did they apologize or show any reaction to me when I showed up. They gave me the first blink of the Polish soul I did not understand at all. Nobody elsewhere would have given me that back personally because of that shame. They would have thrown that into the sea or just put it back in my cabin secretely. They did not understand my state of soul either because I did not react but said: “Thank you and be blessed“ Any normal Pole would have shouted €žKurva€œ (the only word you must know as a male person visting Poland because it describes the reaction to anything in the Polish behaviour context, that is not average Polish. An artist is today KURVA in Poland i.e. but not before lets say 1997).
That is still the basic reaction of an average low or middle class Polish man on the street to any kind of frustration or even nowadays to things they do not know or understand. I failed on my first day and still on the ferry but legally saying on Polish soil because it was a Polish ferry under Polish flag so I was cautious if they do not throw me into the Baltic Sea.
But how to they slip a mickey in a draft beer you might ask? Very simple. It is already in the glass as a totally transperant liquid like a few drops of water. Keep that in mind and not only in Poland.
So I was the happy finder of my document bag consisting of basic as university degrees, diplomas, birth certificates etc. but wondered that I did not care about it and also not about that Polish lady that was always backtalking against me on board that I was a horrible Serb from Zentralverwaltung Belgrad and trying to steal from the Polish and fuck all Polish women in sight who was walking between my legs from the beginning of that ferry journey. I still remember her insect like eyes, her lean face with outfashioned glasses and curly hair from Schwartzkopf Dauerwellen and her meagre body. Lady, I worship you, if it that what it takes I would have banged you in may cabin!
But the Mickey made it all sound there on board and after because it was a Deluxe Mickey and nothing mattered to me really Also not the moustached taxi driver waiting for me at the pier. “Kurva, wo willst Du hingehen?”€œ – where do you want to go?. He spoke German with broad Polish accent because we were landed at Swinemuende, or Swinoucije, the infamous Westerplatte where Hitler started Germanys first succes tour in Europe before Merkel took over the EU. So it was the AOI at its best. It did not cross my mind because of its altered state, that this was no coincidence because all other travellers were avoided by him as hell. I did not look good at all according to Polish S›tandards with my black anarchist coat by Pierre Cardin (original, hahaha and it is still going strong that jacket) as the Spanish Guardia Civil calls it and a hair a bit too long plus a face they perceived as €žJewish although I was only halve Sorbian and not Jewish at all, but they hate the Sorbs too I had to find out.
The taxi driver was the worst stereotyping image of a horrible Polish taxi driver in general and began to talk about my future plans because I told him I was about to have a swimming vacations at Westerplatte in April when it was just snowing on his old Benz and he answered:
“€žbig Hupe and great ass like horse to make fuck fuck die Votze an den Strand. Fotze bleibt immer kannst Du ficken immer rein, ist kein Stück Seife”
That means that he had some old prostitute with huge breast and giant ass and a willing vagina for me who is absolutely durable and takes it all. All sizes and forms and hour and day long. I distracted the conversation to football because I am still suffering from my experiences with older relatives being recommended like that from taxidrivers and hangarounds in Belize. But this can’t be described without touching the realms of Colonel Kurtz but in sumary: this did not work out really, but we had all our climaxes and some fun, that was for sure. Football meant Cologne to him, the 1. FC Köln, and he concluded his Kurva rant about football that he could drive me home that 300 km to Cologne where I could meet another relative of him who is on social welfare stamps and I could join her by drinking myself to death with Jägermeister, while being myself on social welfare and living in Köln-Kalk, a rundown neighborhod for junkies, alcoholics, old German workers class remnants and members of the Turkish ruling party and islamists. I did not know how to react that outbreak of empathy featured by the AOI because I was still heavily numbed and on the same hand delighted by the one Kozel beer of that sturdy and faceless Polish stewards on the ferry and asked him again to drive me to a cheap hostel in Swinemuende when he stopped at Grand Hotel with Spa for old and disabled Germans to drive his empathy for my situation to the peak. "€žNo, I asked you for a cheap pension, not for a luxury resort" - "€žKURVA, it is just 90 Euros and you wanted swimming, there is the beach"€œ he said while a snowstorm set again with heavy clouds of huge snowflakes around us in covering the scenery in white and also here are many fat old German lady for you". I decided to give up and stepped out of the car and pretened to check in to set him loose because he seemed to have some kind of agenda -special harassement Polish style by the AOI – but he followed me to the reception desk where the typical Polish female De Luxe receptionist was waiting: polite from the first moment, not ovewhelmingly attractive, a bit chubby not to say fatty in appearance and always willing to take a man as he is: as a stupid idiot only there in a hotel without women or family or companions to screw every female around. Otherwise he shouts KURVA all day, has his hands in the pocket and looks like a complete idiot. So I was standing at a huge recption desk on the Westerplatte watched by a moustached KURVA Polish taxidriver and a receptionist who wanted to sell me at least a 90 Euro room in a hotel complex inhabited 99% by retired old German who praised the architects of the 3rd Reich as well as their “€žAngela, die Kanzlerin, hach ja”€œ .
“€žOK, I book for a complete breakfast here”€œ said and €žyes, that is 35 Szlotyœ said the recptionist followed by another €žKURVA and angry moves of the taxidriver who seemed to try to hit me but I evaded that but his fist fighting attempts did not even raise an eybrowe among the Poles around. Finally he pissed off with some more Kurvas and my thank you very much Sir, that was briliant€œ and I was waiting to eat there watching a crowd of old Germans fighting for the first place in a row at the feeding desks eagerly controlled by Polish waiters who obvioulsy hated them. “€žWhat a nice display of all evil the EU has to offer”€œ said to myself: €žBeing forced to live with people you hate in an environment that was set up by people you hate just for the cheap price because you get the lowest pensions in Europe because you follow idiots you elect again and again for exactly doing that to you and everybody else for the sake of controlling everything and receive an imitation of medical treatment called Spa. And the Poles treat you for breakfast as if this is the waiting line for water soup in a concentration camp and even that they do not realize. Nothing has changed with you, congratulations”
I stood in line at the entrance of the dining hall just thinking that and began to be pissed about the exremely slow queue passing a control checkpoint. After 30 minutes I stood face to face a smiling Polish steward who could not believe his eyes that I was about to enter the Holy Halles but I convinced him that I payed for everything and he was off course absolutely sure that I was only there to screw some old German ladies for money but he did not say that but he smiled in such a slimey and derogative way that there were no further questions asked. Be aware when travelling in Poland that this is the main obstacle in sight for you when you try to stay anywhere in that country. I call it the KURVA phenomenon. They just can not think any other way and it will be held against you that they always think that way.
After that breakfast I was politely led out of the hotel I did not want to stay in by switching on all avalaible light spots, halogen etc. and pointed them to me only when I seated myself in the lobby to check the internet and being approached by nice German voices directed to me by sudden sofa companions: “Gehen Sie mal schnell rüber über die Grenze, da kann man noch mehr verdienen, Sie wissen schon “€“ cross the border to Germany quickly, you can earn much more there” . Yes, I felt at home. Suddenly aware that Germany again cared for me in their subtle, and caring, empathic way so I moved away to search for an affordable accomodation in Swinoucije, the infamous Westerplatte in West-Pommerania, where the Führer tried to reorder Europe and that is now completely independent from the Germans.
No living soul was able and willing in the whole town to assist me in my search, all taxidrivers turned away because I did not want to stay in that completely German occupied Hotel cum Spa. “Pension? Pensiona? Kurva, what is Pension?”€œ And so on until they began to grin and smile and I understood that is was done, done again. The tourist information was about the same quality: two Polish women denying any information about cheap accomodation but instantly suggesting that I was only there to let €žmy balls be dangled around€œ as the Germans say, meaning €ž"der lässt sich hier die Eier schaukeln"€œ . So that subtle feeling of discomfort developed based on that unique stereotyping the Kurva way everywhere in Poland. I was led friendly out of the tourist office gaining absolutely no result again and walked towards a signboard with the city map and was approached by a couple watching me interested when I asked them: "Do you know KurvaKurva road?" €œ and the answer came as quick as bullet from a MG42: "Nu glaor, Sie, das iss zwee mal rechts ein moal links und dann gradeaus woe die Musike spielt"€œ, in best East-German tongue available and I knew I was in good hands because the two knew exactly what they were doing and at all cheap pensions€œ available I was turned away with a sarcastic knowingly grin.
So I took a train to the next baltic beach village where I was fucked over by another Polish moustached taxidriver "€žDrive me to a cheap pension please" and I have to admit that it is quite difficult to fuck me over after 38 years of travelling by simply driving me around the corner to another €žGrand Hotel€œ were only German cars were parking until I shouted: €žno, no, no, I said pension, not German Grand Hotel€œ and tried to bang my forehead on his dashboard to imitate his Kurva attitude to completely ignore my wishes as his customer and my shere existence. He did not react at all, that was it. I gave him his 20 Zlotys because the worst thing you can do is to annoy a taxidriver, even if he demands a blowjob on the sidewalk from you - that happended to me back home where I was blackmailed and harassed by an Iranian, no let’s say Persian driver since he worshipped the dead Shah for denying him a blowjob on the sidewalk in front of my house just because "€žhe had heard, that I might have indulged in a homosexual act once or twice" . It doesn’t matter that he was high on something again when he did this in public by the way because taxidrivers in the west have the right to do this now because nobody controls them and they are in power because of their number and they might slip on einformation or two to the….police, right or wrong does not matter because they “just €ždo things and are polite to police” sometimes.
So I went off with my travel bag and tried to check in a hotel or whatever they had in display in that cosy Baltic beach town and was told an incredible high price in the first and a typical cheap price, 75 Sloty in the second one, a two and a half star hotel. I was checked in off course by a female Polish receptionist this time a much nicer blond and slim version who gave me look as if I was the rapist-strangler freshly washed ashore the Baltic beach and handed me over the keys to my room by simply throwing it on the desk. So I threw 80 Slotys back and went off and this made her immediately my whore in advance without my knowledge but she was looking after me as if I asked her to meet me in the church for a wedding with her or two maybe. In my room I felt good because it was the typcal cheap but well furnished and clean Polish hotel room with a TV and a fridge an a huge bed with fresh towels and everything you need. I looked outside the window and saw a pittoresque Polish small town street scene in the countryside with old houses, narrow, winding lanes and old fashioned street lanternes, a chimney with a storks nest and started to really feel better. I forgot the idiotic undermining taxidrivers, the German Guck und Horch couple, the horrible receptionists, the AOI behind it and started to think: maybe I can take that nice blond receptionist out and bone her later without paying or just gifting her or whatever when I awoke from my slumber around three o’clock in the night with all lights on and the fridge humming and noising and a bright 2000 watt light shining from the outside against my window, that had just a translucent gardine so I lay there in the brightest light ever in hotel and thought: KURVA. I tried to switch it off but all efforts failed so I went down to see everything locked and the receptionist gone.
So I tried to cover myself with all sheets and blankets they had in the room and waited for the morning to come because breakfast was included and I wanted to ask that recptioniste if I could add up to that 5 Sloty tip so we could settle our dispute of not boning her or whatever. But at 8, when suddenly the light was out and the fridge back to normal there was a typical Polish receptionist waiting for me, chubby, 160 cm tall with glasses from the early seventies and short curly black hair made by Dauerwellen from Schwartzkopf company who said: “breakfast over there until 9″€œ In the breakfast room there were only Germans from the lower strata of society who looked at me as if I had just been washed ashore at the Baltic beach : “€žda hat wohl einer schlecht geschlafen, was”€œ and then I was treated with all disrespect Germans have for alleged misbehaving they have €ž"heard about". I looked outside the window and saw a German turbo car with a license plate from Düsseldorf and 666 number on the plate.
While eating from the Polish buffet with a lot of pastry and strange creams with unknown tastes I heard the remark of a Polish employee of that hotel in German to his German friends: “€žJetzt frisst die blöde Sau sich auch noch voll hier”€œ suggesting to all the other guests that I had misbehaved profoundly last night when I was just alone in my room and should be taken care of by maybe angry taxidrivers or Polish Nazis with black woolen caps from the cast of "Hostel" maybe, or the AOI I avoided all ugly sidelooks and got the fuck out of there while the chubby receptionist totally ignored me when I gave back the room key and walked to the railway station being ignored by all streetwalkers to an extent that they did not know one word of German or English anymore and beeing cursed by the constrcution workers on the streets I passed but made it into the train to Gdansk. "Kurva!"
Copyright by Ronald C. Kaiser 2018
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