Today's true story takes place at about 4 in the mourn, on the Reeperbahn. It's the "Las Vegas of Europe." (OK, I just made that up.) But it's true. All the seedy elements are there: crooked cops, prostitutes, drugs, clubs, yes - the Beatles played here in the beginning - yes, we all know, bad coffee and good local beer (Astra!), St. Pauli fans, anti-swank chinese restaurants, a turkish communist (?!) who's selling döner kababs and every other freak and beautiful outsider(s) you can imagine. Talk about "the fringe." Seems like home, heh, heh. Rock 'n' roll. Some guy asked me if I wanted to buy some hash, and I just went, "Oh, jesus ..." But there we were in that pub that's famous for being open all night and all the punks sleep in the corner until that perfect song comes on (AC/DC usually) and then it's on their feet and table rumble-rumble hand slappin', and well ... let's just say WE WERE THERE. Oh, yes. (I shan't say the name.) And the lights were low on the Reeperbahn as we crawled out, and we hopped in a taxi, which was cool except that we'd just bought a round of drinks for the 69 year-old guy from Poland (in the bar) who was celebrating his birthday! So first we hit the cash machine, and hit it we did. I waited in the cab, my buddy hopped out, and MAN! that guy was on him like a fly on shit. This would-be thief appeared outta the shadows, and stood there right next to my friend at the bank machine, much too close in fact. He was gonna roll him. My buddy, being salt of the earth and a sweetheart to boot (but a bit naive) just stuck his card in and started chatting wasted-ly with the looker-on. "Fuck," I said and hopped outta the cab, "I'll be right back." My pal was clueless, but the other guy knew immediately what was going on, and backed up just enough to let me through the two of them. "Hey!" is all I said with my best Clint Eastwood glare, and it worked, even though he hung right in there ... he saw the machine spitting out that cash and had one eye on me and one on the wad in my friend's hand. (Not a sexual reference.) I put the crux of my elbow right in his chest - he felt it. He said, "Am I allowed to be next?" (playing innocent) and I retorted, "NO, you're NOT." And the signal was clear, if not so subtle. Had he been a "normal" bank-goer, a law-abiding citizen, he woulda stepped in line, but it was clear that he wanted the money. A thief, no doubt, but apparently not a very good one. My friend was attempting to put the money back in his wallet, and I heard a voice directly behind me ask politely, "Um - are you guys finished?" - an honest question from a college-type fellow, out on the town with a couple of his almost-old-enough-to-drink buddies. "Yes, we are," I said and we split, stumbling back to the a-waiting cab. Got outta there just in time. College was left standing there alone with the Thief, and as we drove away I saw out the window that he'd moved in right next to him as well. Moving in for the kill.

"What was that all about?" the taxi driver asked. He'd seen the whole thing.
"Drive ..." I said.