Saturday came and went. With Barbecues and Betch Shoes thanks to the internet reminders of the inexpoundable Gian, we took the to Neckarwiese. Mind you, generally the main function of grilling together is to actually have a barbecue; a subtle expectation that may have slipped us by. Thankfully it wasn’t long until a few culinary saviours came to the rescue with their disposable barbecue grills. I then realised that maybe I should’ve brought some food, so off to the horrifically expensive, but delightfully close, Rewe for some meaty meat.
The evening arrived and so did the necessity for predrinking. Utterly defeated by the buzzer system in the modern Neuenheimer Feld buildings, I ended up sneaking in after a couple of randoms, after having memorised which room number Graham lived in. A number I promptly forgot before entering the building.
THE PLAN: a trippy art studio near Halle, Breidenbach, which only opens its doors for events once a month. THE PROBLEM: A large queue and expensive entry prices. Told there was no chance of entry we sat down in the alleyway across from the club. When lo, what befell! Casting our eyes aside as the object did present itself, we meet our nemesis; a steel fence, not ten feet high. A challenge indeed! With alcohol in our bloodstream, confidence in our eyes and peer pressure in our hearts, we scaled the fence, scrabbling up the metal like drunken monkey masters. I guess that’s Darwin for you, when in doubt, go back a few evolutionary states and you shall find your answer. Suddenly this outdoor arts fest of tripping music became all the more scintillating when you earned your way in through climbing over two fences. With its two story nightclub, in which I couldn’t decide whether to “bust-a-move”, or just “move, buster”, floating chairs and inflatable crocodiles,, the Breidenbach event took itself quite well.
My only regret is I left before Spanish Jesus appeared. Now that would’ve been a Revelation.