Post Titled: strange but true stories of the weekend...

Ok, so my friend Partick came into town whom I haven't seen for years (11 actually, eleven friggin years) and we went out for a night on the town. CCCP wasn't open until 10, so we stopped off at the only other bar in Mitte that I know of which is Muschi Obermayer on Torstrasse "That's where Brangelina bought a flat" I always like to point out when I walk on Torstraße even though the exact location has never been confirmed like some kind of goshard national secret- I believe it to be number 140 based on hearsay. ANyhow, it is so hot in the bar that everyone is outside on the wooden chairs crowding the sidewalk and we have a beer.
A guy sitting nearby starts asking us if we know where a brothel owned by a prominent Irish Publisher is- "uhh, nooo. ... errh." but we spend a very long time trying to locate it on Patrick's iPhone "Uhh, google 'puff in Berlin'" Over and over.
THe puff-seeker, a smallish guy who looks like he could've been in Wilco and his large buddy who looked just like a gnarlier version of the Fantastic Four's the THING (in Human form) joined us at the table. Turned out they were from Scotland and when they spoke with eachother we couldn't understand a single goddamn word. Pure nothing jumble of syllables. I couldn't believe this was the english language even.
These guys were on a 'stag run' and had somehow gotten separated from their group, a group of either 9-14 guys all from Glasgow, where for 4 days to drink incessantly, rent fast Germna cars adn sleep with German prostitutes, apparently. The THING-looking guy was a professional Blacksmith named Marcus sweet guy actually, so drunk that he could barely talk or sit-up straight, and his buddy, whose name we never caught, insisted on telling a story about Marcus:

"Lemme teelya about Marcus, mate, ohhh- Awhile back we were out at a club in Glasglow and Marcus was a bit drunk and disorderly so they tossed him out and after he got tossed out he realised that his jacket with his keys and phone and all were still in the club, but they wouldn't let him back in- so he went around back and climbe up three stories of drainpipe up onto the roof, where they have a real American semi-truck. So he sat in the semi and threw bricks at the gotic club across the street for awhile-"
"Coins, mate, I was throwin' coins"
"Anyhow, he's thrown things at the homos at the gothic club across the street nd then starts climbing the apexes of the roof and he busts through a window into the attic of the cluband he's walkin around and through the wall he can hear the THUMP THUMP THUMP of the music, this is a thin old brick wall and so what does he do? He busts through the wall like the incredible-fucking-hulk and when the dust clears there hhe is on the dancefloor and the music comes to a stop and he bellows "WHEEEERES MAH JEECKIT!?!" then it takes 5 blokes to wrestle him to the ground..."

We relocated to a place called the Schokofabrik, an artsy dive with a labyrinthine backyard Hof of tables, bars, people, dogs, lights, food, etc...