The end of an era...

Although many have never even heard of it, a Kirchheim landmark has closed its doors for good. That's right kids, Zum Wasserturm is no more. Less than 30 seconds from my front door, this "Oasis of Kirchheim" was my watering hole of choice on this side of the Atlantic.
Those who knew of it but didn't really know it will wonder why I make such a fuss. Sure, it was usually so filled with smoke that you could feel polyps spontaneously sprouting in your lungs. Sure, it was not frequented by the "pretty people" ("degenerate drunks" is more like it). Sure, it was sometimes a surley place that saw its fair share of drunken skuffles and people being forcibly ejected. But to me, it was my little corner of the world where a guy could have a couple of cold beers and think about absolutely nothing after a long, hard day in the salt mines. (And did I mention that it was less than 30 seconds from my front door?) There was also the "Master of Disaster", Chris the bartender, a German who moved to the States as a kid and came back as an adult. I was never fooled by the biker façade. Chris is the kind of guy who not only knows where the bodies are buried but probably helped put some there. Just kidding. (Kind of.) Chris has a heart of gold and was a "bottomless" well of some of the funniest stories I've ever heard (although in an attempt to maintain a PG-13 rating for this blog, I can't share many of them). If Chris is reading this, I hope you get your driver's license back soon brother.
I'll also miss Carmen, Chris's wife. While we probably never exchanged more than 10 words, she was a sweetheart and certainly one of a kind. Her birthday party was last Saturday. Little did I know it was also the swan song for my little home (30 seconds) away from home. But alas, the end has come and I must accept it. No more watching Walter get beyond sideways, telling me (and everyone else who would listen) that he loves me. No more crazy drunken lady sitting in the corner, relentlessly busting Chris's onions. No more "overalls guy" coming in after work and talking to himself while he got pickled. No more 30 second stroll to tall, cold Hefes.

Tonight, I will be forced to walk almost 2 minutes in the other direction to get a beer. Although I'm sure the place will be just fine, something tells me the smoke won't be quite as dense and the beer won't be quite as cold. My guess is I'll see some familar faces there, other Zum Wasserturm refugees. I'll be starting a support group in the coming weeks -- stay tuned for details. If you'd like to make a donation to help us in our hour of need, please make it anonymously and in cash with small, unmarked bills (Euros only and, again, no coins).

Although my chances of getting lung cancer (or getting the crap beat out of my by a mob of xenophobic drunks) have probably been dramatically reduced, I can't help but feel the world is slightly sadder place today. On the positive side, we found out that the folks that own Sardegna (one of our favorite area Italian restaurants) are going to open a pizzaria in the same place. What the hell: they serve Hefeweizen and we all know you can't stop progress.