How to Survive Making Yourself Look Silly While Dancing with the German Mafia at a Bavarian Nightclub and Other Lesser Known Travel Tips by Simon Yeats
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How to Survive Making Yourself Look Silly While Dancing with the German Mafia at a Bavarian Nightclub and Other Lesser Known Travel Tips
The best has been saved to last. Book 3 of a hilarious series of travel misadventures and dubious personal introspection by Australian author Simon Yeats, who from an early age learned that the best way to approach the misfortunes of this world is to laugh about it.
Simon shares his comedic insights into the unusual and uproarious elements of living life as an Aussie ex-pat and having a sense of Wanderlust as pervasive as Cholera in the 1850s.
From how to outwit the Italian police while trying to find parking in downtown Genoa, to how to negotiate exploring the Roman ruins of Plovdiv, Bulgaria while on crutches, to how to impress the German Mafia with 80s dance moves, to how to leave a lasting impression on a crowded bar in Gothenburg, Sweden after combining alcohol and antibiotics.
Simon Yeats has gone into the world and experienced all the out of the ordinary moments for you to sit back and enjoy the experience without the need to rupture a disc or succumb to Dengue fever.
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Author Bio –
Simon Yeats has lived nine lives, and by all estimations, is fast running out of the number he has left. His life of globetrotting the globe was not the one he expected to lead. He grew up a quiet, shy boy teased by other kids on the playgrounds for his red hair. But he developed a keen wit and sense of humor to always see the funnier side of life.
With an overwhelming love of travel, a propensity to find trouble where there was none, and being a passionate advocate of mental health, Simon’s stories will leave a reader either rolling on the floor in tears of laughter, or breathing deeply that the adventures he has led were survived.
No author has laughed longer or cried with less restraint at the travails of life.
Social Media Links –
TIK TOK - https://www.tiktok.com/@authoryeats
INSTAGRAM - https://www.instagram.com/authoryeats/?hl=en
Avoid looking silly
I am in a bar in Bavaria just a few days after my 30th birthday and I decide that I needed to live life to the fullest.
Then the DJ fires up KC and the Sunshine Band, That's the way (I like it), and all the members of this group started to sway and wiggle their hips. It is the worst display of white men dancing I have ever seen!
“That’s the way. Aha, aha. I like it. Aha, aha.”
Not even one of them has an ounce of rhythm or style. I thought transvestites on swings were an odd sight to see in Germany, but this is super freaky. It is as if every member of Duran Duran and Spandau Ballet suddenly contracted muscular dystrophy. I have seen some weird things in my day, but this is by far the weirdest.
Is it some bizarre Illuminati hazing ritual? Ten men gyrating in a circle, sipping drinks through cocktail straws, making Elaine from Seinfeld on the dance floor look as graceful as a swan.
“That’s the way. Aha, aha. I like it. Aha, aha.”
Being white and bereft of rhythm myself, I always thought I could mentally prepare myself for the trauma of watching other white men dance badly. But this is far worse than even what I could have even imagined.
“That’s the way. Aha, aha. I like it. Aha, aha.”
This must be a setup on a reality TV show.
Suzanne's sister joins me at the bar to refresh herself with some bottled water. She nods toward the group of men.
“Be careful of them,” she whispers.
“Who? Them? You're kidding me, right?”
“They are members of the German Mafia.”
I gag with laughter. “Please say that again. That is the funniest thing I've ever heard.”
“They are the German Mafia,” she says again, without a drop of sarcasm.
“They were just dancing to KC and the Sunshine Band,” I explain to her. “KC and the Sunshine Band, for God's sake! There is no way that is the Mafia. Look at what they are drinking.”
From the anxious look on her face, I can tell she is telling me what she believes to be the truth. Maybe it is the truth, but it is a truth more bizarre than fiction. The German Mafia is wearing 100% polyester. Someone needs to rush on down to the local Blockbuster Video and rent these guys a DVD of The Godfather. The sister gives me another stern look, then goes back to dancing. I am left to stare in stupefied awe at what passes for organized crime in Deutschland.
The next song on the DJ's playlist starts. Amii Stewart's, Knock on Wood. A classic in anyone’s language. This version has been on permanent rotation in every dance club since its Grammy nomination in 1979, for best female R and B vocal performance.
“Cause your love is better, than any love I've known. It's like thunder. Lightning. The way you love me is frightening…”
The Mafia crew are totally down with this tune and cut loose. They bump and grind with as much style as Luciano Pavarotti doing a back-flip. One of them shuffles his weight from one foot to the other, completely out of time with the music. It is comical. But I cannot say I could do any better.
I cannot help but think of the scene in The Godfather, when the producer discovers his champion horse's head in his bed. This is the type of thing I had been led to believe the Mafia did. Extortion. Money Laundering. Counterfeit goods. No, no, apparently it is not. I am watching what the Mafia does right now. They drink fruity cocktails with umbrellas. They dress like discards from a glam rock band. And they dance to disco hits the same way Microsoft founder Bill Gates would.
This is the reason I asked myself, what are the circumstances in my life that led me to be here right now? And then I remembered. The dancing Mexican fool at the Rose Bowl. A man who boogied for two hours and 30 minutes without a care in the world. Without any fear of regarding what was going on around him, or what people thought of him. I recall my admiration for the man, how I wished I could be like him. Confident. Carefree. Untroubled. To experience even five minutes of that type of freedom. Then I could rightfully claim that I had led a truly full and enjoyable life.
Here I am laughing at the boys from the German Mafia, but judging by the smiles on their faces, at least they are enjoying themselves.
Even if it is in a slightly homoerotic fashion.
But then I stupidly think to myself, what if I got up and danced?
(note: Helen has not yet read the book herself)
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