Memoirs of a Worldly Guy
It was New Year's Eve, 1952 and we'd booked a passage to Innsbruck for January 3, 1953.
'We may as well try one more shot at the Overseas League,' I said, 'It's just gotta beat the hell out of sitting here staring at each other.'
'I'm game if you are,' Bill replied. There was no fog and we had a proper map so managed to find the building with a minimum of confusion.
'Are you sure you want to go in there?' Bill said. 'They'll probably expect us to dance with the dogs, ankle biters all, I suspect.'
'What the hell,' I said, 'We can just do a quick whip round and check out the talent; we might even get a drink out of it.'
'I suppose you're right,' Bill said. 'Lay on Macduff!' We walked up the stone staircase and into the foyer. Suspicions confirmed, I thought. There was a table with a couple of sweet, grey-haired ladies sitting behind it.
'Checking our credentials, I presume,' I muttered, but in the event they merely wanted to confirm our address and our country of origin.
'There's food in the next room if you feel like you'd like a bite,' one of them said with a smile. Bill was already moving in that direction. It suddenly became worth the visit.
'Christ, take a look at that!' There was more food than I had seen in one place since our arrival in food-rationed Britain. There were plates of buttered bread of various kinds, sandwiches, plates of cold cuts, Cornish pasties, meat pies, cakes, tarts and cookies--a veritable Dickensian bounty! Bill was working his way along the table like a starving trencherman. It was almost embarrassing. Oh, yeah, there was also a non-alcoholic punch.
'Why don't you go on in and introduce yourselves to some of the other guests?' another of the white-haired ladies suggested.
'Good idea,' I said. 'Come on, Billy, before you explode.' He moved reluctantly away from the groaning sideboard (or vice-versa) and followed me into the main hall.
'Good Lord! I don't believe it,' I exlaimed. There were two or three young women for every man in the hall, ranging in age from eighteen to twenty-three. Tall, long-haired, statuesque; I couldn't see one amongst them that qualified as what the hard critics at home would have called a 'tire-biter'.
'We've been overlooking a virtual bird's nest on the ground,' I said to Bill.
'Now you tell me,' Bill said morosely. He was obviously thinking of all the wasted nights when he could have been falling in love rather than sitting around the West End pubs.
It seemed that all of the young ladies were from Australia, New Zealand or South Africa, and we'd had a turn or two around the dance floor with a number of them when midnight arrived. Silly hats and noise makers had been distributed previously and noisy bedlam followed the countdown to the New Year. Much hugging and kissing was also taking place.
Fortunately I was with a tall, handsome, full-bosomed girl from Australia whom I had been favoring and she seemed quite willing to join in the celebration. There were no gallants wandering drunkenly about looking for girls to kiss. The girls who had partners seemed determined to monopolize them. The 'kissing time' eventually expired but my female friend and I were continuing to find it enjoyable.
I think we were more 'in lust' than 'in love', although it's possible that my testosterone and her estrogen had communicated in some arcane way. Bill claimed later that he had looked around in vain after the midnight revelry but could see us nowhere. He eventually spotted movement behind one of the floor length side curtains and walked over to peer behind it. This time his suspicions were confirmed.
'Okay, break it up,' he said jovially, '..time to come up for air!'
'Is it midnight yet?' I said innocently. 'My, how time flies! What about you, Margaret? Did you notice?'
'News to me, myte!' she said, with a sly smile.
'Why don't you bring your girl friend along to the flat?' I said. 'We can get a proper drink of Scotch there.'
'Beauty!' Margaret said.
'What about Beatrice?'
'Aw, don't bother about her; she'll come along, right enough.'
Some things are firmly imprinted in the old tape recorder I call my memory; other things seem not to exist. For instance, the events at the Overseas League are easily remembered; our return to the flat I cannot recall at all. I presume we sprang for a taxi, 'in keepin' with the sit-you-eye-shun!' as Scrooge's cleaning lady would have said.
How I managed to manipulate my darling into the bed in the back room I don't recall. The memory kicks in again when I find myself lying beside her. She is stripped to the waist, presumably following a period of kissing and heavy breathing. Further downward progress was apparently not to be achieved, however. Her swimmer's breasts were perfect, firm, conoid. Above the navel all was permitted; below---nothing.
I had tried to subdue the tempest in my loins with a whirlwind of oral activity above. My lips had grazed on her soft cheeks and browsed like an engorged bumblebee from eye to long-lashed eye; my tongue probed each perfect ear in turn, then traced its way slug-like across the smooth skin to her eager mouth. My teeth had tugged and worried at her lower lip. Meanwhile, my free hand had stroked and squeezed and palpated the magnificent mammary abundance like that of some mad oncology student-in-training.
With a sigh of passion I would bend my head to ravish the splendid rose-tinged nipples, firm as pencil erasers, as my hand drifted surreptitiously downward, only to be seized firmly and replaced in the permitted zone. When she took her leave with her girl friend some time later, she left me agonized, like Quasimodo, walking slowly, bent over, back toward my bell tower.
'What the hell's the matter with you?' Bill asked after the ladies had left.
'Well, I didn't dislocate my back, if that's what you're worried about.' I groaned.
'Well, what then?'
''Lover's nuts', stupid! Haven't you ever seen a guy with 'lover's nuts' before?'
'To be perfectly honest, I haven't. What causes that?'
'Are you being deliberately obtuse?' I said, lowering myself slowly and painfully into an easy chair.
'No, I swear! I've heard about it but I've never had the problem.'
'Count your blessings,' I groaned, 'and please don't tell me that lifting up on a car bumper helps; I've tried it in the past and it doesn't work.'
'Whatta you think causes it?'
'If I had to guess, I'd say overly-sustained erection without ultimate gratification.'
'So you didn't get laid, then?'
I gave him a scathing look. 'I guess that's a concise but vulgar way of putting it.' I said dryly. 'Do me a favour, will you? Take my shoes off for me; I can't reach them.'
We reserved seats in a third class compartment on a train from Victoria Station. We left at noon on Sunday crammed into a small compartment with six other smelly individuals and arrived in Innsbruck at 4:30 Monday afternoon. Undoubtedly, for a few extra quid we could have had sleeping berths and slept soundly through the journey. Instead, we suffered throughout, hot, sleepless and uncomfortable. Why? Because we were young, cheap, and STUPID!
I have visited many foreign countries since then but this was the only one I have entered without knowing a single word of the local language. Well, I guess I knew one word. Tommy Morison had told me when I phoned him from London that it would probably be less expensive if we found accommodation in Igls, a small mountainside village above Innsbruck.
When we boarded the tram I held out my hand full of Austrian coins and uttered one word-- 'Igls'. He smiled and carefully picked out the correct fare and later pointed at us and said 'Umsteigen' when we were required to transfer to the bus that ran on up the mountain to Igls (pronounced ('eagles').
Completely 'knackered' as we were from our miserly money-saving sixteen hour train ride we skipped dinner after checking into the Hotel Maximilian and immediately hit the sack. But the following morning we were up early, refreshed and ravenously hungry. The dining room tables were set for breakfast with snowy napery and sparkling glass and silver. We found out later that we could have rung down for breakfast in bed but such degenerate self-indulgence had not even occurred to us,
When the waitress appeared with her pots of steaming hot coffee and milk we had already looked up the words for bacon and eggs in our pocket dictionary.
'Guten Morgen! she said, smiling. 'Kaffee?'
'Danke,' we chorused, showing off our new word. As she turned to walk away I stopped her cold in her tracks. 'Und fur Fruhstuck, Schinkenspeck mit Eier, bitte!' I added. She turned back with a look of disbelief, then, apparently having overcome her shock, assailed us with a rapid-fire torrent of excited German. She seemed not to be pleased. We sat smiling at her in silence. This provoked another short tirade in German, although this time more slowly and less excited. We remained silent. I sensed that I had provoked a 'situation'.
'What'd she say?' Bill muttered.
'Buggered if I know; I've already used up my three words!'
'Excuse me, but can I help?' said a young blonde woman sitting at the next table. She had obviously been eavesdropping on our conversation, not without amusement, and had decided to become involved.
'All assistance is most welcome,' I said. 'Do you 'parley-voo' the 'Krautzky'?'
'A little,' she said. 'The waitress is trying to tell you that the standard breakfast here is what they refer to as 'Continental', that is to say, croissants, buns, butter and jam with all the coffee or milk you can drink.'
'What about bacon and eggs?' Bill asked.
'She's never had anyone ask for bacon and eggs before but says she'll ask the kitchen if they'll do some for you.'
We had managed to eat most of the 'Continental' by the time the 'real' food arrived. I had lost most of my appetite but decided to eat it anyway as a matter of principle. I had also had time to whip through my dictionary so I could smile at the waitress and say 'Vielen Dank' when she had returned.
'Bitte sehr' she had said,looking at me with the trace of a sardonic smile.
When we had finished our breakfast we stopped at the table of our blonde benefactress. 'Thanks for your help,' I said. 'We just got here yesterday and, as you may have noticed, we aren't completely fluent in the old 'lingua franca' as yet.'
'So I noticed,' she said, glancing up from the newspaper she was reading. I noticed it was printed in German. She hadn't asked us to sit down so we remained standing like a couple of schoolboys being disciplined.
'You sound American,' I said.
'Actually, I'm Canadian,' she replied.
'Really?' Bill said, expressing more interest. 'So are we. What part of the country are you from?'
'British Columbia, if you must know!'
I was tempted to say 'Actually, we really don't have to know at all. My friend was just making conversation; frankly, we couldn't give a shit where you're from!' Then I thought--no point in offending her, after all, she had been helpful with the waitress.
'My father is premier of British Columbia,' she added, almost as an afterthought. Well, la de da, I thought; that's a little more like it. Puts us in our place very nicely, thank you very much.
'We're from Alberta,' I said. 'Orphans! The authorities tell us our parents were in prison when we were born.'
'So you're brothers then?' she said, viewing us with curiousity.
'Sort of,' I said. Bill was giving me a questioning look; I couldn't really blame him. She still hadn't asked us to sit down and join her and I concluded that the conversation was heading nowhere.
'Well, nice to have met you,' I said, moving toward the exit.
'Yes,' she replied.
'Canadians are beginning to give me a pain in the ass,' I said as we headed up the staircase.
'But we're Canadians,' Bill said.
'Yeah, that's what I mean!' He just shook his head.
'What was all that bullshit about us being orphaned brothers?'
'That's what it was, 'bullshit'; when she came on with that 'premier's daughter' crap I just couldn't resist.'
'I still don't get it, Bill said.
'Never mind. She reckons she's some kind of royalty so I figured I'd give her a real snob opportunity. You noticed she never asked us to sit down, I trust.'
'Yeah, now that you mention it; I wonder why?'
'Part of the 'royal syndrome', I presume.'
'A pity, really, she wasn't all that bad looking.'
'You'd be wasting your time, pal, besides, she wears too much makeup. Looks like she applies it with a palette knife; probably has bad skin!'
'Wow, so much for Miss High and Mighty. Do you reckon all that stuff about her father is true, then?'
'Oh, yeah, of course. What reason would she have to lie?'
'Same reason you would, I guess.'
'Good point,' I replied.
We never saw the woman again. As was my custom, I asked the desk clerk to give me a look at our bill that evening. I was stingy to a fault and wanted to know how much the exercise was costing us. When I showed the 'Rechnung' to Bill he blanched slightly. The charge for our breakfast was not included. Our bacon and eggs was shown as a separate entry and was more than the room charge. The following day we moved up the hill to a pension; an excerpt from my letter to my mother reads as follows:
'...took the first accommodation available when we arrived here, the Hotel Maximilian, named after a former emperor, but found it a bit too expensive so moved to different quarters the next day. We are now staying at the Brugerhof in Igls. It is about a fifteen minute bus ride into town. We pay sixty Austrian schillings per day for everything i.e. about two dollars and forty cents in Canadian money. They will serve us breakfast in bed in the morning if we choose to ring for it. We have two good meals of meat and vegetables and salad and dessert at noon and in the evening. There is central heating in the rooms and the beds are very comfortable. The little room maid comes in each night to turn down the beds for us. If we leave our boots or shoes outside the door in the evening thay are cleaned and polished and in place next morning. No extra charge!'
Needless to say, we were off bacon and eggs for the duration.
I didn't realize it at the time, but Bill was expecting to return to London in a few days and wanted to indulge in as much 'Wintersport' as he could. He borrowed my ski boots one day and headed off to the ski hill to rent skis and poles and show off his skill. He returned late in the day with nothing broken or sprained so we celebrated in the room with a couple of glasses of schnapps (80 cents a litre).
'I met a couple of South African babes on the hill,' he announced. 'They wondered if we would be interested in going 'rodelling' with them tonight.'
'The babes part sounds alright! What's with the 'rodelling''?
'Well, the big mountain behind us is the Patscherkofel. There's a cable car that runs about two thirds of the way to the top to a stop called the Bergstation. You can rent those wooden sleds at the top and leave them at the bottom.'
'Sounds dangerous to me; they got floodlights or something along the track?'
"No, that's why the girls are so keen to go tonight. It's going to be clear and there's a full moon; apparently it's virtually as clear as day.'
'Does everybody have a sled?'
'The drill is that each girl sits in front of one of us on the rodel. We sit behind with our hands on the extensions at the back and drag our feet near the front to steer and control the speed.'
'Sounds ever so cozy,' I said.
'I'm looking forward to it!'
We met the ladies at the bar of an Igls main street tavern at seven o'clock that evening. 'Well, here we all are,' Bill said, '...ready for fun and games; Ron, this is Margaret and this is Janet; once you get used to their accents I'm sure you'll all get on like a house afire.'
'What accents?' Margaret said, smiling. She was a stocky blonde with a Prince Valiant haircut. But it was Janet who impressed me. She was a brunette with wavy hair and flawless white skin. She exhibited a shy mien but occasionally flashed a brilliant smile. She was slim almost to the point of thinness but her dark ski slacks were perfectly fitted. I was having some difficulty directing my attention to her large, dark brown eyes rather than the sweet swelling of her breasts below her gray cashmere sweater. I was affected each time she spoke, her sentences rising slightly at the end.
'I like your attitude,' Bill said. 'Let's be off, though, I think there's a cable car leaving in about fifteen minutes.' It was less than a ten minute walk to the cable car station so we were there in time not only to get aboard but also to get seats.
'There's something else I should have told you about this deal,' Bill said, '..but I was afraid if I told you you might refuse to come.'
'Okay, out with it,' I said apprehensively.
'Well, it seems that the rodellers tend to become so thirsty from their efforts that the local entrepreneurs have erected little rest cabins along the route.'
'So what's wrong with that?'
'Nothing, really, except that they all serve schnapps and mulled wine and it's considered rude not to take a token glass or two; I hope you don't mind.'
'Well I certainly do mind,' I said. 'I mind that you never told me about this before!' Then I laughed maniacally just as the cable car pulled up at the Bergstation.
'Schnapps und Gluhwein fur vier, bitte! I said when we were seated.
'Not for us, I think,' Margaret said, glancing over at Janet.
'What's the problem? Are you teetotalers or some such unspeakable thing?'
'Not really, but I think we should pace ourselves. Maybe we'll share some with you at the next 'station'.'
'How many 'stations' are there, anyway?'
'Five, at least. Maybe six.'
'You gotta be kidding!' I said.
'No, not kidding.'
'Holy shit!' I said. 'Come on, Billy, drink up, there's work to be done.'
We finished our introductory beverages and walked back outside to where a pair of rodels were standing side by side. I walked over to the further one and sat down at the back. To my surprise and delight the elegant Janet walked over and sat down in front of me.
'Was ist los?' ('What's going on?') Sorry, I had learned a few more words. I had assumed Bill would have assured his situation with Janet but apparently I was wrong; delighted nonetheless.
'You guys go on ahead,' I said. 'We'll follow and pick up the pieces!'
'Very comforting!' Bill said, shoving his sled forward.
'Steer and brake with your feet!' I yelled after him.
'Yeah, yeah,' I heard him shout back. I gave him a fifty yard head start and then shoved off. Soon we were gliding noiselessly along on a moderate slope. After a bit of experimentation I found that the rodel was quite easy to control with a combination of foot pressure and subtle bum shifts.
'Oh, this is great fun,' Janet cried rapturously. It was great fun, rushing noiselessly along with the dark woods on either side and the well-packed snow glistening like silver ahead of us. After travelling about two hundred yards we came to a well-banked turn in the track and I was able to manoeuvre around it quite effortlessly.
'That was well done,' Janet cried.
'Thank you,' I said. 'Not too bad for a novice!' We were now heading back across the mountainside in the opposite direction. I decided that, so far at least, it was more fun than skiing, where I had a tendency to encounter unexpectedly icy slopes covered with moguls and other unpleasant things.
A couple of turns later and we were at the next 'rest stop'. Bill and I ordered another round of gluhwein and schnapps; the girls gave us a little bit of help this time. We were soon back on the sleds and I noticed that we were moving perceptibly faster than before. On one occasion Janet said something to me that was lost in the rush of wind. I leaned forward with my cheek next to hers, the better to hear her. I nearly swooned! I was inhaling an erotic perfume that made me feel like braking to a halt immediately, wrapping her in my arms and smothering her with kisses. Presumably I was a few ounces short of schnapps and accordingly abjured my lascivious impulses and tried with my addled brain to contrive some specious emergency that would justify my pulling her back against me with my hands placed firmly against her admirable cashmere-covered breasts.
By the time we had fortified ourselves for the fourth time we had reached the point where high-speed sledding was mere bagatelle.
'Would you care to go first for a change?' Bill said. Aha! I thought paranoically; trying to keep an eye on me, eh? So, obviously, I was pissed already. Bill hadn't demonstrated his level of inebriation as yet.
'No, you go ahead,' I said. 'No point in changing a winning combination.'
'Right!' he cried. 'Forward!' and was off at high speed.
Janet and I settled ourselves on our rodel. I leaned forward and kissed her tenderly just in back of her right ear. She made no objection. Perhaps I was falling in love!
I shoved off in pursuit of Bill and Margaret and found that I had to let the sled run free in order to get the hurtling pair in sight again. I caught a glimpse of them just as they made another turn ahead of us.
'Going like a bat out of hell, aren't they?' I said.
'Yayuss, they ahh,' she said, or words to that effect. (I insert this merely to familiarize you with the accent.)
We made the turn and headed back after them. 'Uh, oh, something up ahead!' I said after we had traversed a hundred yards or so. We were travelling at such a crisp rate that I had to crouch forward with my full weight on my boots in order to come to a stop. Instead of the accustomed carefully graded turn there was a barrier built up of eight or ten-inch thick pine logs, obviously to prevent revellers from shooting off into space over a sheer cliff. The rodel was turned on its side and Bill was lying on his back groaning. Margaret, who was kneeling beside him, looked back as we came to a stop.
'What the hell happened?' I asked anxiously.
'He just seemed to lose control,' Margaret said tremulously. 'Perhaps we were going too fast!'
'Perhaps he was too pissed,' I said, ungenerously, as I walked over to the victim. 'Where does it hurt?' I said.
'It's my left ankle, I think it may be broken,' he said.
'Try to be brave,' I said sarcastically, kneeling beside him. 'Can you move it at all?'
'No, I don't think so.'
'Well, try!' I said. 'Can you bend it up at the ankle?' Bill moved it up, very tentatively, 'Did that hurt?'
'Not actually.'
'Good! Try moving it to one side.'
'It seems to be okay!' Bill grumbled.
'Good! Try the other way.'
'That seems to be okay, too,' Bill said. with an element of surprise.
'Give me your hand, I'll help you up!' Bill, now too embarrassed to refuse, gave me his hand and I pulled him to his feet.
'Can you put your weight on it?'
'I don't think so.'
'Well, try!'
Bill shifted his weight gingerly onto his left foot. 'Well, it looks like it'll take the weight all right; still kinda sore though.'
'Probably a bit sprained, is all. Margaret, why don't you sit at the back and steer? We'll go on ahead and keep the speed down; it's not too far to the bottom from here.' Bill limped dramatically to the overturned rodel, righted it and sat down at the front looking somewhat subdued.
We set off again at a moderate pace and soon passed the final 'rest stop'without slackening. In another ten minutes we glided to a halt in front of the main street tavern where we had first met. We pulled the rodels up against the front of the tavern and huddled briefly to discuss our next move.
'I guess dancing is out of the question now,' Margaret said.
'We're stopping at the Maximilian,' Janet said. 'We could go over there; there's a very comfortable bar.'
'Lead on!' I said. 'Bill, do you want my shoulder to lean on?'
'I'll be okay,' he said heroically, limping off toward the hotel.
Arrived at the hotel lounge we all ordered wieners in buns and washed them down with draft lager beer.
'I don't know about you,' Margaret said to Janet about 9:30, '.. but I'm completely fagged. Nothing personal, but I think I'll head upstairs to bed.'
'I might as well head up there, too,' Janet said.
'What's the big rush?' I said, 'The night is still a pup.' Meanwhile I was racking my inebriated brains for a ploy that would give me some time alone with her. 'I'll see you to your room!' I blurted at last.
'That's not necessary,' Janet said.
'Oh, but it is,' I said. 'You're dealing with gentlemen here, not some boorish clods from the 'sticks'.
'Oh, well, if you insist,' she said with a smile.
'Nothing personal, to use your expression,' Bill said, '..but I think I''ll just wait here with my leg up!' Perfect! I thought.
'Of course,' Margaret said, 'You just take it easy, and many thanks again for a lovely evening; it was great fun.'
'Yes, lovely, thanks again,' Janet said.
'You're both very welcome,' Bill said. 'We'll be in touch.'
I followed the girls up the stairs to the second floor and down the hall to where Margaret unlocked the door to their room. 'Thanks again, Ron, good night!' she said. Janet started after her but I held on to her arm.
'I'll be with you in a minute, Marg,' she said. I backed against the wall and pulled her close to me. She was wide-eyed and compliant and raised her face toward me as I pressed her closer with my hands on her slim waist. I think we must both have closed our eyes as our lips met. She kissed marvellously. Her lips were not 'too soft and not too hard' as Baby Bear might have said. I inhaled her sweet bouquet and moved one hand to the back of her head and the other between her shoulder blades and pressed her bosom close against my chest. It was heavenly! I was in no hurry, but she finally moved her hands from the back of my neck, put them against my chest and pushed me gently away.
'I must go,' she said.
'Right! Good night,' I said reluctantly. I pulled her head forward and gave her one more quick kiss. 'I'll see you tomorrow,' I said.
'Perhaps,' she said quietly and reached up to touch my lips with a forefinger. I watched as she walked in and closed the door.
'You seem to have made a conquest,' Bill said, not entirely without rancour.
'A momentary case of madness,' I replied. In fact I had become fatuously obsessed with the lovely creature.
'I thought she started out being my girlfriend.'
'Sorry about that,' I said. 'I just couldn't help myself!' As we trudged up the hill toward our lodgings Bill announced that he was planning to head back to England.
'News to me,'I said. 'When did you decide that?'
'Just today,' he said.
'Any particular reason?'
'I've just decided I should start earning some money before my nest egg runs out; I can't go on sponging off of you forever!'
'Your credit's good,' I said.
'You've been very generous, but I'll feel better if I'm paying my own way.'
'Suit yourself,' I said. I fell asleep that night fantasizing about erotic activities Janet would probably never permit even when under the (my) influence.
Following breakfast the next morning Bill needed to go down to Innsbruck to get train reservations. He had decided to reserve a sleeping berth, a decision I heartily applauded, with grim memories of our latest train trip still fresh in my mind.
'I don't think the South African girls have seen Innsbruck yet, maybe we should go by the hotel and see if they want to go down with us.' I said.
'Good idea!' Bill said, '..it's right on our way anyhow.'
At the front desk I enquired after the girls. 'Zey are no longer here; zey haff checked out early ziss morgen!' We were flabbergasted.
'Are you quite sure,' Bill said incredulously. Maybe they went for a walk, or something.'
'Sorry, I am quite sure! Zey haff paid ze bill and vacated ze room.'
'Well, I'll be goddamned,' I said, turning to Bill. 'Danged if that don't beat all! We must have made one hell of an impression.' I had developed a slight migraine headache.
— The End —