Interesting to hear Limp Bizkit and still think of Schillerstraße with some excitement.
The usual gorgeous slice of pizza from the station on my arrival, and a roll to have later. Very pretty new blonde barmaid but desperately thin. If she gained another 5 stone in weight she’d be sensational. Still, still, still, I have the feeling I could even now bring Munich to some kind of life—if I tried to do something with one of the Schillerstraße girls. In my first Munich golden age I had great experiences because I was prepared to splash the cash. I never do in Munich anymore; I still wonder if—expensive as it might be, as much money as it might require—if there is SOME fly I could awake from the amber. It would be one of the small places. Not Atlantic City or Tiffany. They are too regulated and boring. The small places up the road are a little bit more “wild west” as it were. I’m talking myself into returning to Munich but I’ve ruled out any more long train journeys for a long while; just make do with Brussels only in 2017 for a long time, to save money. 2017 is going to be a year for finally TACKLING my debts. Not just keep hoping by some miracle they will come down by themselves, but actually doing something and making sacrifices to make sure it happens. I’ve already started, but it will be a while before the improvements really come through in the figures. “Stop drinking!” “Stop looking at pussy!” I hear my beloved ex-wife saying, bless her. What a truly wonderful person she quite often can be. I don’t know if it is my imagination but the Dorint Zipfer seems a fraction colder than usual.
I must admit I am curious now about what a 50 euro private dance in a place like Dolly or Candy Bar would be like; I think those girls would be quite naughty; more so than in the bigger Atlantic City or Tiffany. I will give it a go next time I stop over in Munich. Perhaps there IS some bang for your buck. Anyway, I’m stopping off in Frankfurt on my way back (presuming I don’t change it at the last minute and carry on all the way to Brussels). Not particularly cold; for December ridiculously mild. Boringly so. Maybe not particularly exciting in Munich last night, but it was titillating enough to get me in the mood for it now. A rising sense of excitement as we head towards Vienna. 0848 Still 2 hours 40 minutes to go. But a lovely quiet train (1st class would have been even better of course). My erections coming & going in a pleasantly heady, lubricious mood.
I wandered along Arnulfstraße looking for some other bar to have a drink in, tried a couple of hotel bars but they were small & bland, then settled down in the lovely old Hotel Wolff. Charming bar, real log fire. Atlantic City, no one took my fancy but for 15 euros and two free drinks it is not expensive to have a look. The kabins were unusable. Stuck my head in most of the “cabaret” bars in Schillerstraße—Piano Bar, Imperial, Femina, Tiffany, Dolly Bar, Broadway, Candy Bar. As always Tiffany was the only one with more than one customer or two, and as it usually is it was packed. Attractive busty blonde barmaid Nena from Serbia; big Romanian girl Gabriella. 50 euros for a private dance declined. I tried to tempt the barmaid but she laughed and said 200. Some nice girls in Dolly Bar and Candy actually; one day I will have to say yes to their 50 euro private dance and see how enjoyable (naughty) it is. If I hadn’t been on my way to Vienna I might have had a go last night. Walking back to my hotel, two girls standing outside the Amba Hotel, I think, next to the one red light bar in the road; they called out to me “hello!” and were both holding a bottle of beer. At first I thought they were hookers, pretty blonde Fanny and beautiful busty brunette Jenny; why else would they have said “hello!” to me? Wedding dress designers from northern Germany. I wanted them so much, especially Jenny, but after a little chat when it became obvious I was not going to get anywhere I bid them goodnight. It was them I was thinking about before I went to sleep. On the 725 train now to Vienna. It goes to the new Hauptbahnhof, not Westbahnhof. No hangover to speak of. A lovely Yorma’s roll for breakfast and I am ready for my 4 hour journey. On our way.
Yes, I always say Munich never again—but it is OK when I am just stopping off for a night on the way to Vienna. Gives me an excuse to pop into my old haunts of Atlantic City…well, just Atlantic City really; and Sexyland kabins. The other clubs in Schillerstraße are all rip off hostess bars; not clip joints in the worst Soho/Pigalle tradition, as all prices are advertised honestly, but nothing happening except to buy the girls expensive drinks for nothing in return (?). 13 years ago when I first started going to the Schillerstraße clubs I think they were a little more relaxed, and you could squeeze SOME naughtiness out of the girl; not sure any of that is possible now.
So Monday night in Munich and I’m in bed by 930pm, ready and eager to sleep. As always at the end I just want to get home. My mojo has gone. The excitement of the outward journey has gone, so I might as well be home as fast as possible. I went in Atlantic City to use up the money I had left on my bonus card but did not spend 15 euros to go in for the dancers; that says it all. I also used up the money left on an old bonus card in Sexyland so apart from 4 pints in Café Schiller (a very evocative name for a drab modern formica sports café; judging by the wonderful posters on the walls downstairs I am sure it was a wonderful old place at one time) and the two rolls & two pizzas on my way back that is all I spent in Munich. I hope I make my connection and have time in Brussels to —- one more girl—either Dominican Republic or black ponytail, before I finally head for home. Still, cannot believe here I am in Schillerstraβe, Munich, and in bed by 930pm.