Dennis Schröder’s dour expression contrasted starkly with the merriment surround him. The “Wunderbar Weiner Platter” that was placed in front of him at the table was untouched. Seated around were his Atlanta Hawk’s teammates, all happily conversing and enjoying their food. Chants of “Eins, Zwei, Drei, sich betrinken!” emanated throughout the dimly lit space. Walking about the establishment were many women of various ethnicities wearing low-cut dirndls and offering alcohol to all.
Mike Scott had just finished downing a large portion of schnitzel when he turned to Dennis.
“I almost forgot to congratulate you on your career high! Great night for the Shredder, huh? And it was sure a great idea for you to invite us all here, I’m having a blast!”
“Actually, I didn’t suggest this, it was…”
But Mike had gotten up, his eyes on a particularly busty serving wench. “Fritzl’s EssenWagen” spared no expense on the beauty and voluptuousness of its ladies. Mike’s spot wasn’t vacant for long; Pero Antic, seeing Dennis looking somewhat put-out, quickly sat in it.
“Hey, why the longs face? Is something wrong?”
“This place is a mockery of German culture! This whole thing is an affront to the pride of my land, the pride of my forefathers!”
“Yes, it may be. But do not be too upset; your friends mean well and want you to be happy for your career night. I remember when they take me to supposed Macedonian restaurant, and it turn out to be nothing but gyros and ouzo! But I not mad, because they want me to have fun. Good job on career high, man.”
Pero clapped him on the back and left. Suddenly the gaudy atmosphere seemed a little more fun, the ladies a little more buxom. Smiling, he joined his teammates in singing traditional Trinklieder between bites of “Wunderbar Weiner Platter”.