What Up, Vienna? when a girl and a guy from los angeles move their asses halfway across the world

sturm, entschuldigung and clowns…oh, my!

Have we talked about Sturm here yet?  I wasn't made aware of it's existence until my first night in Vienna.  I refuse to consult Wikipedia right now because I'm in Hawaii and I'm lazy so I'm just going to tell you what I think I know about Sturm.  It is a very young, yeasty wine that tastes very sweet.  Apparently there is a season for Sturm and right now we are nearing the end of it.  You got your rot (red) Sturm and your weiss (white) Sturm.  I preferred the weiss...until I went to the circus and had the rot.  I don't know how to articulate why I liked it better.  Maybe it was the charm of the circumstances under which I had it.  Perhaps it was because it was freezing outside and the high alcohol content provided me much-needed warmth.  More likely, however, is that I think the rot is pretty.  I am a connoisseur indeed.

Speaking of the circus, over the past few weeks riding the D trolley to the 1st district, we kept going past a gaudy, kitschy, as-fake-looking-as-something-can-look circus.  Naively, we finally stopped by one night thinking we could just stroll right in but turns out the Roncali Circus is one hot ticket.  We ended up buying seats for the following Tuesday.   And Tuesday couldn't come quickly enough.  I just prepared for the craziest and hoped for the craziest.  We got there early as requested, which was good because I needed my fix of rot Sturm.

A line began to form waiting for the doors to open so we quickly joined up.  Once the doors were open the line moved swiftly enough.  We get to the front of the line approaching the ticket taker and out of nowhere this seemingly upper middle class looking lady with her two kids burst out of nowhere and try to cut in front of me.  Instincts took over.  My arm clotheslined out stopping her in her impolite tracks and I managed to retrieve the German word for "What the fuck do you think you're doing, jerkface" which is "Entschuldigung."  The spelling may be off.  I am impaired with the disease of one fine mojito.  So I stopped the lady and Alex and I got past the ticket taker.  I'm sure that lady was right behind us though.  Alex approved of my aggressions and restated something he had brought up to me before which is that Austrians do not do lines.  Now, that is fine.  But why form one in the first place?  If you don't do lines, just bumrush the show. Own it.  Don't start a line and get me in a linemood and then try to cut.  You're in a line, you can't cut.  I don't care which hunk of land you're from.  It just ain't how it's done.  So I invite these Austrians, or perhaps it's the whole of the continent, to cut in front of me.  My clothesline-ready arm is waiting for you.

Now, for your viewing pleasures, a photo and video essay on our trip to the German circus:

All in all, we had a great time. We only understood about five percent of what was said but the rest was Beatles songs, adorable ponies and clowns throwing plates so we found ourselves quite able to follow along. Speaking of which, the circus band was dressed up in Sgt. Pepper garb and played almost exclusively songs from the Fab Four. Hello, Cirque du Soleil? I hope there's not going to be an intercontinental circus rumble. Wait, what am I saying? Please God, I hope there is going to be an intercontinental circus rumble. Please, please, please. Could somebody start some prayer chains? Maybe pay a make-a-wish kid off to call this one in for me? Come on, everybody wins when there is an intercontinental circus rumble! You're picturing it in your heads right now, aren't you? Of course you are.

You might also enjoy reading:

1. vienna is auf dem tisch
2. when in doubt, just say mozart lived there
3. don’t fondle the bread

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