“a Boy, some Bread & Butter, Berlin & (new) Friends” – B.B.B.B.F.
I don’t even know where to start this post, I’ve been meaning to write it up for weeks, I’m just not sure my waffling will do it justice.
Ok, here goes:
“a Boy, some Bread & Butter, Berlin & (new) Friends”
Jack Morgan has always been that friend who calls you up last minute to do something at the wrong place, at the wrong time, all in the name of enjoying yourself.
He once rang me at 1am asking if I wanted to go over the water (the dark side, the Wirral) to check out a car he was looking to buy – no really, at 1am, in the pitch black. I went with him anyway, we found the car (I think) and then we went straight back home. Sounds pretty mundane, but I had a good enough time for it to merit a mention right here.
Everyone knows they’re at risk of being dragged into his ridiculous plans and adventures at any given time, and that’s exactly what happened to me a few weeks ago in the middle of January.
Jack: “Lad, guess what!?! I’m going to Berlin for Bread & Butter!”
Mac: “Fuck Off! That’s sick! I’m happy for you man, that’s gonna be so dope!”
Jack: “D’ya wonna come? I’ll try and hook you up! Got a place you can stay already, I’ll try get you a ticket!”
And so it began, with less than 5 days before Bread & Butter kicked off in Berlin, I had to devise a plan of how I would get to Germany, whether it be by plane, rail or boat!
For anyone who is already questioning why I would agree to traveling to continental Europe for something called Bread & Butter – a place where there actually is neither bread nor butter – under such short notice; well first off, I have always craved a chance to see the city of Berlin, and secondly, watch this (its the primary reason why I originally felt the need to visit “Bread & Butter” – thanks Levi).
The means of travel (or at least the route taken) was so very typical of a trip catalysed by Jack, and led to me making a whistle stop tour of Amsterdam on the Monday evening – my 4th official visit to the Dam, and still no prostitution on the track record, I am a good man.
After bunking a train from Schiphol Airport to Centraal Station, and then not paying for a tram ride to the “rendezvous point” (scousers don’t pay, did you not know this?), I finally met up with Mr Morgan and the always sweet-faced Ayesha. The third of my friends living in Amsterdam, Lauren, didn’t feel I was worth the effort to come and see for one night, I will forever be offended.
Luckily, Jack took myself and Ayesha to the pretty impressive “Burger Bar” so I quickly forgot about Laurens non-attendance (Jack is the man to go to if you need a good burger). I’d go as far to say that Burger Bar in Amsterdam is as good as, if not better than the Californian In-N-Out burger. Yes, true story. At the end of the day, it blew my mind when I realised Kobe beef was on the menu. A Kobe beef burger, that is the best kind of beef you can pay for, that’s some Las Vegas casino shit! I was sold, Kobe beef all round.
By the time we stumbled back to Jack & Ayesha’s beautiful little dutch apartment, we probably should have went straight to sleep – I had to catch a train to Berlin from Centraal at 6.25am – but of course we stayed up, I gave them the inside scoop on all gossip from Liverpool and we half watched a movie starring (sort of) the kid who gets AIDS in the 1995 Larry Clark movie set in NYC, Kids.
It was class.
I had such a good night, after only 3 hours sleep I almost couldn’t be bothered to continue my mission to Berlin.
I’m glad I did.