It took a little convincing for my long-time friends to accompany us to the underground bar then named “The Last Cathedral”. They are open-minded as the average Berliner but tend towards the traditional and conservative although they’re always up for a lark and continue to be amused by my wilder tendencies and even wilder occasional companions.
This wild companion took the form of young man from a small village in Germany who had giddily lost himself to the eccentric affectations which are common as rainwater in the capital city of Berlin. From a clean shaven youth with guileless hazel eyes and a lightly freckled face (I’d seen earlier photos of him) he’d transformed to a black nailed, perpetually sword wearing Renaissance Goth with lengthening hair and a beard several centimeters long. It had helped his stuttering, plus his “get-up” always secured us seats and a wide berth from other travelers on public transport.
With our partners who barely complied with The Last Cathedral’s very strict dress code for patrons, from the very small entry way and front room we descended a long dark stair to the main room of the lounge below. That they had Newcastle Brown was my male friend’s most important feature found, and his fianceé was drawn to the gyrations of the dancer who occasionally performed on the bar twisting and turning directly above the eyes of eager onlookers.
The B-52s were outstanding, as were the heavy beats of the basement crawler music that made it difficult to converse, yet we were mostly after drink and experiencing the almost artificial creepiness of the place.
After several rounds and a few instances of uncontrollable lip lust my suburban Berlin dwelling friends were heading in early since we had arranged another outing for them the next night, courtesy of my friend’s new interest…. fetishes.
This one was even more eye-opening to the last: The German Fetish Ball! The following weekend my friends politely but firmly insisted they choose our entertainment venues. I had no objection.