Make Mine Mike

Last week I went to Schatzi on Main -- that’s the Governator’s restaurant. I’d been there before for dinner and drinks, but never for this event called the Alpine Mixer. I met up with my friend, who’s back from Germany for a visit. When she was living in LA, she would do this thing somewhat regularly.

I suppose it was fun for her to mingle with other people who sprechen sie Deutsches. Just like her, the folks at the joint spoke perfect American English -- passing me, saying, “Hey, how’s it goin’, man?” or “Hi, nice to meet you...” -- then they’d see her and start rattling away in that guttural “Alles klar, Herr Kommissar?”

Now, I know this is reactionary and unfair. And it probably has more to do with me, and my long family history from decades ago... not to mention seeing too many Hollywood WWII movies... plus, chalk it up to my usual tendency to feel like an outsider, even among a fine, friendly group of people...

But I couldn’t help but imagine I was an undercover Jewish double-agent infiltrating the Gestapo’s meeting of German spies. I mean, half these guys reminded me of Peter Graves in Stalag 17.

I still had a great time, but... Ach du lieber! Was ist dieses?