Deutsch-slapped! Second Installment

My friend Bruce and I got Deutsch-slapped yesterday afternoon taking pictures at the holocaust memorial.

Granted, we were not exactly being somber and reflective. My excuse is that Bruce (who studies "visual culture" in Sweden) had just reassured me that he took a class in which they learned about this particular memorial and how it was designed for people to be able to play there. I *know* it doesn't sound plausible but who am I to argue with the Swedish education system?

There are men whose job it is (of course) to stand by the holocaust memorial and tell people not to have fun. "No jumping! This is a holocaust memorial!"

Deutsch-slapped!

If one really is supposed to play at the holocaust memorial (I know, I can't believe I believed that) then they shouldn't have put it in Berlin, where playing, even where it is not strictly verboten, is still regarded with suspicion.

And then last night I met Halley and her brother, Trey, at Palm Beach, an absurd little bar where the floor is covered in sand, the heat is jacked up to 85 degrees, and "Cocktail Happy Hour" starts at 6 pm and ends at 5 am.

Shortly after the waitress brought our drinks, I was telling them about getting Deutsch-slapped earlier that day, when the waitress showed up with another drink for Halley. The waitress left both full drinks in front of her and explained very politely that Halley had accidentally ordered both of these drinks, each from a different waitress (she thought they were the same woman) and so she must pay for them. "You must only order your drink once. Do you understand?"

Deutsch-slapped!

And this morning as I was jaywalking across a silent street, an old woman with a walker yelled something (I know not what) at me from across the street. I don't think she was telling me to be careful.

Deutsch-slapped!