My week is all fucked up. Some school nights, like last Thursday, I go to the groovy kids bar and meet my friend Freddy, so we can ignore cute girls and the latest sounds while we talk about our miraculous daughters. Some Saturday nights, I'm so wiped out I can only make it a hundred yards down the block, where I drink herbal tea and blog at our neighborhood bagel hut. This weekend was relatively wild--I went to see Cloverfield (even though I suspected I would just feel cheap and used afterwards.) At the Westbahnhof U3 station, I had to thread my way through a gaggle of pint-sized punk rockers in spotless black bondage trousers and shiny new studded belts. Was Green Day playing at one of the arenas? Who knows?
Monday is my favorite night of the week. At least it has been since me and Anette made it our date night. Without fail, we go to the Briggitenau Bad, to swim, and sauna, then finish off the night at Uli's Kabob Corner, where we wolf down chicken durums and share one tall Blech beer. It's almost an ecstatic experience. And yes, we really do drink beer called Blech.
I will no doubt be blogging from the sauna live one day soon so I can really capture the scene, but the Briggitenau baths are probably like a lot of public baths in Vienna. Many of them were built fifty to seventy years ago, as part of a socialist health ideal. A lot of Viennese apartments back then were too small to have proper bathtubs or even showers. But the tradition endures, and on a cold and/or rainy night, it's just about the most delicious and cozy thing one can do with the one they love.
Anette and I go to the bio-sauna room, which is co-ed, but not as blisteringly hot as the same-sex sweat boxes. The bio-sauna has colored lights on the ceiling and slow, wonderfully generic new age music. Lying up in there, as every square micro-meter of my skin starts to bead up, I always Ahhh-out, and I think, 'Everything is going to be just fine--We have a very good life--My problems are all small peanuts.' A couple of weeks ago, as I was staring up at the lights glowing yellow, then turquoise, I told Anette, "I like the stars. And I like you."
That's how I get on Monday nights.