Water-Wasser-Acqua
I read somewhere that water is important for living organisms. Something about how if said organisms Don’t get enough, they’ll die. I always thought no matter where you lived or what culture you were a part of we all had a least one thing in common: a never-ending need for cock… I MEAN WATER! I MEANT WATER! Boy was I wrong.
Europeans somehow evolved to simply not need much water. I don’t know when this taxonomic split occurred, but it’s real and explicit in every European country I’ve traveled to so far. Let me explain.
When you walk around any given European city the only water you will see is spewing from stone fountains made during the Roman Empire. There are no public water fountains. Zero. When you walk into a restaurant and wait 30 min for a fucking waiter to come, does he offer you water? Maybe, but it comes in the form of a 1 L bottle and is priced like the bartender personally labored to merge the oxygen and hydrogen.
After a boozy late night in Berlin, Will, Vince and I sat at a near-empty cafe that overlooked the Spree River, grossly dehydrated and hungover. I understand the waiter had to smoke, probably mock us from afar and think about his cultures general superiority, but his philosophizing was taking longer than usual and the three of us were about to faint from thirst. I mustered the will to fetch us some, falling and scrambling out of my chair and stumbling like a gimp up to the bar. I then pushed my face like clay into the shape of a smile in a last-ditch attempt to appear like a decent and pleasant human being.
“Hi.” I said to the bartender who was stocking a shelf with clean glasses from a crate.
No eye-contact, still stocking glasses, and as cold as the ice they Don’t put in their drinks, the bartender replies, “Hello.”
“Hi, can I have some water?”
Still no eye contact, “You order that through your waiter.”
“Yea, we Don’t have one.” I point towards Will and Vince, “We’ve been sitting at that table for 30 minutes and nobody has come.”
No apology. “Oh, ok, I will send someone.”
“Great, but while I’m here. Can I have some water?”
He stops stocking glasses, turns towards me, and finally addresses my presence like someone who doesn’t have autism, “No. You must order water through your waiter.”
I point at the faucet in the sink two feet from him, “Can I have some water from the tap?”
The bartender stares at the sink confused, “Well… why Don’t you order water from your waiter?”
“I’m begging you. Please. We’re are dying of thirst and have already waited so long. Can you pour me a glass of water from the tap and then we will also order some through the waiter when he comes?”
By the look of his face, I just handed the bartender a Rubik’s Cube and asked him to solve a differential equation, “I am sorry, that is not possible.”
“Are you serious?” I reach for my wallet, “I’ll give you money.”
“Yes. I am sorry, that is not possible.”
“But it’s very possible. You have glasses and you have a tap. Please.”
“I will go get your waiter.” The bartender abruptly leaves his post and I walk back to the table with Vince and Will like I just found out I have polio.
“Well, where’s the water?” Vince asks.
I sit down and stare at the ground, “He… He said… it’s not possible.”
Vince pounds the table with his fist and muffles, “This! Fucking! Country!”
Another 15 minutes pass before the waiter finally comes, “Hello, and what can I get for you today?”
I am one step from a mental breakdown. Are we in a simulation to test people’s nerves?
“Wasser. Drei.” Will says calmly as he holds up the proper three fingers.
“Danke.”
Another. Fucking. 15 minutes pass and the waiter returns with one 1 L bottle of sparkling water. He takes our food order and leaves. Drop-by-drop, the three of us carefully pour the bottle and divide our ration of water like we’re stranded in the desert. We look at our portions in shock, our small glasses are barely half-filled. We drink them down in one gulp like a shot of whiskey. I ponder drinking water from the toilet or jumping into the Spree.
Sometime later, in Munich, after a surprisingly enjoyable walking tour, I asked our young Irish tour guide, “Hey, what’s the deal with water here?”
He responded in a confused manner, “What do you mean?”
I roll up my metaphorical sleeves, “Well. Why isn’t there any? Why aren’t there any water fountains? Why isn’t it complimentary in restaurants? And when I buy water, it’s 3 fucking Euros for an 8 oz bottle. What’s up with that?”
The Irishman ponders, “You know, you’re right. I have no idea.” He nods in agreement, “It is terrible.”
I started laughing. I’m glad he agreed with me, but how the fuck is he just now having this epiphany!? IT’S WATER!
Now people might say, but Stephen, you’re being ethnocentric here, and I would retort, “BUT IT’S WATER!” Shouldn’t these socialist assholes be more liberal with this resource? Weird that in capitalist America we have free water fountains, free water at restaurants, and a 10-gallon drum costs 57¢. Every socioeconomic class benefits from this system. The proletariat of Europe are disproportionately fucked if they decide to leave their homes and are, God forbid, plagued with thirst. Does nobody drink water on this goddamn continent? I think I finally solved why Europeans are so lazy: They’re all dehydrated. I’ll submit my findings to the Smithsonian.
Moving along, I guess people around the world simply view water differently. California’s position on water is its own unique type of fuckery. Due to Climate Change or God’s Will if you’re dense, California has seen longer and hotter summers causing a DEFCON 12, emergency fuck-hell drought. Every article in the newspapers or broadcasts details how fucked we are. Nearly every conversation I have with someone is also about how fucked we are. Yet, if I was deaf and illiterate I wouldn’t suspect a thing. When I turn the faucet on water comes out and people still water their lawns. I do pee outside more often despite my neighbor and his children seeing my dick on two occasions. Two. But it’s all in the name of conservation so it’s allowable.
“Officer, I’m trying to save water here!” I say as he handcuffs me and books me for exposing myself to a minor.
California’s water issues have made me realize that the word drought is relative. I think we, as Americans, might be misusing it. I picture myself conversing with a drought victim in Sub-Saharan Africa.
“Amiin, you’re in a drought!? No way, me too!”
“Yes, Stephen. Our drought is very horrible in Somalia. Many people suffer.”
“Yea, that’s how it is in California too. We’re not supposed to water our lawns.” (Leans in) “But we still do.” (Winks)
“Oh, I see. Because you need to water your crops.”
“Well no. It’s for the grass. So, the grass stays green.”
“I see, grass for your livestock. I had to sacrifice two-thirds of my stock just to keep the rest alive.”
“Well no, it’s more decorative.”
“You use water to grow grass that isn’t for livestock on land that isn’t for food?”
“Yea. It just looks nice.”
“Oh. It must be dirty water, then right? Water that is unsafe to drink?”
“No. It’s perfectly good, treated, potable water. We also piss and shit into it.”
“You defecate and urinate into your drinking water?”
Nodding, “Uh-huh.”
“Why?”
“We just do. We fill our toilets with clean water and after we shit into it, we flush it.”
“How much water do you use every time you defecate?”
“I Don’t know. A few gallons?”
“That could have quenched so many. So many that have died.”
“Oh yea, we also have these things called water parks in America. Imagine millions of gallons of water that we play in. Slides, fountains, all that shit. Let me tell you, it’d be a real drought if those bad boys shut down.”
“You can drink the water though, right? Or use it for cooking?”
“No, we dump a bunch of harmful chemicals into it so the water doesn’t get foul. But yea, like I was saying California is in a really bad drought. It’s all over NPR.”
“You keep using that word, I do not think it means what you think it means.”
“Was that a Princess Bride reference? I love that movie.”
