Crazy Night, Part Zwei -- The Craziness Continues

If you haven't read part one, you can do that here .


So, where was I? Aah yes, I had chills down my spine after my driver decided to go all 'filmy' on me. We proceeded to his car. I was offered the front seat but I politely declined. If I was going to have my mouth slit into a wide grin I was making sure I knew about it. No stabbing me behind my back, thank you very much. If I was going down, it was going to be with a fight. Why I didn't just not get into the taxi I'll never know.


If I wasn't tense enough to begin with, we began heading towards Luzern, where I had just returned from!The driver didn't seem overly concerned about the preservation of his own life either. He was racing along the highway, animatedly discussing something with my co-passenger, his arms flailing wildly in what seemed to be his best impression of an octopus writhing in pain on having six of it's eight tentacles cut off. I was fairly certain the end was near. When we entered a dark tunnel, I hoped against hope I'd survive to see the 'light' at the end of it. Maybe they were discussing how best to dispose my body? Being a fan of crime shows on TV didn't help me one bit. I thought of all the possible ways in which they could make my remains 'disappear'. I thought of the possible mistakes they could commit which would lead to the discovery of my body and how the Swiss police could trace it back to them. Yes, I had an episode of CSI running through my head, with my obliterated body as the show's centre-piece. In fact, I was so embroiled in my own macabre thoughts that if the driver did something stupid like spit on me I would have inadvertently berated him for his stupidity and carelessness. I would have then probably gone on to tell him how to do it right, how to make sure he wouldn't be caught.


My poor head, almost at bursting point, finally received some respite when we dropped the other guy at a seedy looking hotel. But Mr.Respite didn't stay for very long. I thought he would take me home next. Uncle Cabbie had other plans. Our next stop was this bar in G0d Knows Where. We waited for like forever , and just as I began getting the heebie-jeebies again, out stumbled our next two passengers. One was a waitress who worked there. The other was very drunk. We dropped off the drunk at God Forsaken Place and continued on the highway, now speeding towards Basel, another place that WAS NOT my home.


'Wow! Crazy night.' I thought to myself, and just as the thought left my head, things got a little crazier. We came across a girl, with her pants down to her knees sprawled across the side of the road surrounded by three fairly sinister looking guys. We felt obliged to stop and check if everything was alright, but Waitress, who turned out to be quite the firebrand jumped out of the moving car screaming, 'Damsel in distress! Damsel in distress!' in German. I suppose she felt morally responsible for all the drunks on the road. By the time me and driver reached the spot, Naked Girl's pants were back where pants rightfully should be and she was vomiting her guts out on the road. One of the 'sinister looking guys' happened to be her boyfriend, but the only part that rang true about that was the boy part. Letting the poor girl get so drunk that she developed a healthy disregard for clothes and think that jumping out of moving vehicles to fall face first on the curb to be a brilliant idea didn't strike me as being particularly 'friend'ly . The other two punks were helpful strangers like us.


Glad that things had been sorted out we began trudging back towards the car when Waitress decided to pick a fight with one of the Helpful Punks, and proceeded to practice her punches and slaps on his face. The driver on seeing this began seething, and foaming at the mouth. 'Oh this woman!! So aggressive she is. Always getting into trouble. Oh, this woman! Mmmmm....AAArghhh...' , exclaimed the driver in what I assume was an exasperated tone. All I could do was stand and stare in amazement at the scene that was unfolding before me. Why on Earth did the driver continue torturing himself by taking this crazy woman home every night if he knew that she was as mad as a hatter?! Helpful Punk, on the other hand seemed quite stoic about the whole thing after some initial resistance on his part. Quite chivalrous I thought. Not laying hands on the woman. What a noble thing to do. I would have thought otherwise had I known then that he planned to return the favour to the two men accompanying her, me and my new best friend, the man who I thought was out to murder me, the poor driver. It is indeed true that tough situations bring people together.


The punk inched his way slowly, towards us. 'Is this your girl ?' , he asked the driver in an ominous tone. The driver shook his head vehemently. The punk turned towards me next. ' No, of course not ! Do I look like I can handle a crazy, insane woman like her ?!' , is what I wanted to say, but my German wasn't good enough. The only German that was in my head right then were two words which would have ensured that I got beaten to pulp and got my head carved out like a Halloween pumpkin :'Genau' and 'Yahwol' (because both words meant 'yes, you are absolutely right'). I wanted to stick my head into the sand like an ostrich but I was surrounded by a sea of brick and concrete. I imitated the driver and we both did our best to pry the woman off the punk, stuff her into the back seat of the car. Then, just like in the cartoons, we sped away leaving behind a trail of smoke and dust.


Luckily the 'Patron Saint of the Drunks' didn't have to offer her services anymore that night. We managed to drop her back home in one piece, after which both me and the driver let out a collective sigh of relief. I was the only passenger left now. He had no choice but to drop me off next. I wistfully thought of the bed awaiting me at home. The driver was going on and on about old Swiss houses he was doing something to protect but I was too sleepy to care. I just wanted to get back.As we got closer and closer to the final destination for the evening, I got sleepier and sleepier. And then the car stopped.


I woke up to a blinding light pointed straight at my eyes. Felt like an alien abduction. It was just the police. First they asked for Pablo's ( see, now I know his name. I told you we were friends.) license. We had a mini archaeological dig inside the car as Pablo excavated through layers and layers of junk on his dashboard to finally come out, almost magically with his license. If you didn't know better, you would think he was David Copperfield performing his most astounding trick. The police seemed suitably impressed as well because they turned to me next. 'You don't seem Swiss. Where is your identification?'


It was at home of course. Who carries their passports to watch a movie? I thought buying a ticket would suffice. The only form of ID I had on me was my GA card, and guess what?! Your rail pass serves as an ID in Switzerland! So one of them took it to the squad car and began speaking into the police radio. I was visibly uncomfortable about the whole situation because not only were the police discussing me and my personal details,but I was also on the verge of dropping to sleep and I still had a bloody bright torch aimed straight at my face! Pablo tried his best to comfort me, in what I thought was his attempt at comedy. 'Don't worry. They are just checking if you are a murderer or rapper', he said. He obviously didn't think much of rap and he had a lame sense of humour as well. Wow, we had more in common than I initially thought. ' You don't do rap no?' , he continued, half jokingly. 'No, no', I said, half sniggering, half sleepily mumbling,' I listen to rock'. Now it was his turn to be confused. 'No, no, no', he said, ' You don't know rap? The having of the unwanted sex?!'. (In case some of you are reading this half asleep as well {well, my stories do serve as good bedtime stories..they are sure to put you to sleep} , he meant rape)


My response didn't change though. I don't rap, and I don't rape either. The light was finally focused somewhere other than my face and at long last, we were allowed to leave. Fortunately, there were no more adventures during the five minutes it took to get me home from there. I don't think my bird brain could have handled much more. So, if you are an adrenaline junkie with a thirst for adventure and find yourself stuck at Zurich railway station, call 079 669 33 18 and ask for Pablo.


Pheeew!!! Long post no? I hope it managed to capture your interest all the way through.....