Everything That Will Flash Before Me

When rebels storm my throne in 2089 and push me into the void—righteous punishment for all the money and women I’ll have taken—my life will flash before me. The Jägermeister nights will be in that reel. I’m certain of it.

Hamburg made the cut. The mountains too. And now the Loftus Hall in Berlin has earned its frame.

Dinner was standing-room only, which sounds like the kind of detail that should ruin an evening but somehow didn’t—the food was actually good, and the crowd noise made it feel like something was already happening before any band touched a stage. Then, in some order I can no longer reconstruct, Tek-One, Dumme Jungs, and Eskimo Callboy came on and did what decent bands do to a room full of people who’ve already had a few rounds of Jäger-Bull.

For the record: Jäger-Bull goes down like water for me. I mention this only to explain the general shape of the rest of the evening. The foosball table was involved. There was a lot of laughing. And there was a girl from the agency who saved my life on at least three separate occasions, though the exact nature of the interventions has gone warm and blurry in a way I find affectionate rather than alarming.

Made it out. Mostly intact.