Throwing Flames

The bar scene in Berlin never ceases to surprise me. There is a strange juxtaposition going on: the streets are quiet, peaceful even, and then you enter a bar and stumble upon a whole other world. Take Café Zapata, for instance. From outside, it looks like a rundown building, a bit of an eyesore amongst the upscale restaurants that surround it. A few interesting metal sculptures entice you to go into the bar, and suddenly you find yourself in a cavernous room with a band playing full force onstage. Exiting through the back leads you to a large, sandy area with several food trailers, tables, and another stage with another band. Spooky metal sculptures of demons, devils, and various creatures lurk in corners and atop the trailers.
What struck me as more odd than the sculptures was a claw-foot bathtub filled with what I presumed was water. My partner, Wilson, and I paused at the tub for a moment before shrugging our shoulders and walking over to where the outdoor band was playing. We had come to Café Zapata specifically to see our friends, the Benka Boradovsky Bordello Band. Halfway through their set they pulled me up on stage and had me dance. My high heels, the level of alcohol in my blood, the crowded stage, and the fact that I was wearing blue jeans resulted in a terrible performance on my part. Or maybe I’m just my own worst critic, because everyone else enjoyed it and even asked for an encore. I was feeling a little too tipsy, though, so I declined.
Then I went inside to use the bathroom (which was far more frightening than the sculptures) and when I walked back outside, there was a man in fire gear waving around a flame thrower. The bathtub hadn’t been filled with water, but with gasoline. And this flame thrower guy, he was raving like a lunatic, throwing flames all over the place and shouting things in broken English.
After his performance, he went through the crowd, asking for tips. Lots of people put money in, because you should never argue with a guy who has a flame thrower.
After all the chaos, Wilson and I called it a night. As we returned to the streets of Berlin, the quiet and calm of the night almost made me think that Café Zapata had been a dream, or at the very least, a drunken hallucination.

On My Dirty Mattress

My fiance, Wilson Gil, has this song called “Dirty Mattress”. He was inspired one day when he saw a dirty mattress on the street while walking through the Lower Haight in San Francisco. The lyrics go something like, “That stain is from you. This stain is from me. Who could t hat other stain be? On my dirty mattress!”
The first time I saw Wilson’s band, the Willful Sinners, perform the song was at the Lusty Ladies Peepshow Holiday Party. In addition to live bands, the party also featured burlesque, numerous women clad in fetish gear (some wearing only a thong), a room for lap dancing

, and lube wrestling. I had just moved from a little village in the Canadian countryside to the grand city of San Francisco, so it goes without saying that I was a bit out of my element.
Well, talk about breaking me out of my shell. For “Dirty Mattress”, Wilson had a real dirty mattress up on stage with him and he had solicited about fifteen of the Lusty Ladies to dance and have a pillow fight on the mattress while the Willful Sinners played the song. And I was right up there with them, in a Catholic school girl outfit, shaking my ass and whacking various Lusty Ladies with a pillow. The best part was when Wilson crashed down on the mattress at the end of the song and we all dog piled on top of him. There were boobs and asses all over the place!
Okay, now flash forward to present day Berlin. Wilson and I are walking in Prenzlauerberg, and what do we see? The nastiest of dirty mattresses lying on the sidewalk next to a wall covered in graffiti. Wilson just so happened to have his guitar with him, so he busted out with a rendition of “Dirty Mattress” all the while jumping up and down and dancing on the dirtiest mattress I have ever seen. I couldn’t even imagine where those stains must have come from!
Wilson finished the song by shouting, “Wilson Gil! Berlin!” and was greeted by a huge round of applause. A whole crowd had gathered to watch the antics. So, I guess it’s the same in cities everywhere, whether you’re in Germany or California. There’s always a dirty mattress lying on a sidewalk somewhere, just waiting for someone to pass by and wonder, “Eeew, who could that stain be?”

To see the video of the Lusty Ladies Peepshow performance of “Dirty Mattress”, go to www.wilsongil.com