Tag dance

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We walked up the narrow staircase. The white walls were pushing in on all sides. If only the staircase could go on forever or at least long enough to think of a way to excuse myself politely from the pole dancing gathering and to disappear into the night. No such luck. Almost immediately we reached the door at the top of the stairs. I felt my face burning while imagining all of the embarrassing moments to come. I looked at the beautiful wooden door frame, left in its natural state.

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The bar was in a distant part of the city. I climbed into the bus remembering the times when I used to go to that part of Munich to eat fried sushi with friends. The memory stuck in my throat and I swallowed hard. Those friends were long gone and although it felt alright, I still looked back with a bit of a twinge.

The bus driver seemed talkative. He looked at me and asked where I come from. I patiently yet warily told him of my roots in the States and in Africa. He asked me whether I like Munich.

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