Drinking In Gomorrah

My name is Alex Cassiek [?], and I run a small bar in the Zamalek district of Cairo. I work long hours, keep the place tidy, keep good order, keep a good reputation with the police. Been here 6 years, but I wouldn’t say I’m settled, I just live here. I’m 36, I’m in reasonable shape I, keep the alcohol abuse in its place, I’m extremely pleased with myself

Tonight, well, it’s a pretty normal night. We’ve got the expats, we’ve got local businessmen, the odd backpacker, the odd student. And they all sit around watching MTV, and eyeing each other up

And it’s quiet except for this couple of German cotton buyers, who both turn out to come from Munich, and get into a heated row about the worth of marriage, and [?] and 1868, and uh, when they get a bit too loud, I move in, calm things down, make a couple crap jokes

Everything’s cool

They shake hands, make some plans for the night, and uh head off together through the back door

Which comes as some surprise to me becuase
I’ve been here six years, and I never knew there WAS a back door

I walk over. Stare at it. I’d swear it wasn’t there before. But there it is. And I’m not even sure where it’s gonna come out
So I try it. Turn the handle, and step out into…

Munich

I’ve stepped right out onto the Kaufingerstraße, surrounded by crowds of people going shopping, going drinking

I don’t move. My heart’s beating very fast, and I’m wondering if too much experimentation in my past is, coming back to haunt me

But this is no hallucination
These are real living breathing people

I turn round, and the door’s still there
I go back inside, and yes it’s the same bar it’s the same bar but as I look to my left as I walk through, there’s another door, just like this one

I look at the door. I feel like the door’s looking back
And if the door could smile, this one would have a nasty spiny-toothed sarcastic smirk from its beaten-up laminated face

Gotta do it. Got no choice
I’ll go through

This is the Shibuya district of Tokyo. I remember it well
Taught English here once
The arabic neon signs became European neon signs and now Japanese neon signs
Same neon, different script
Now two Japanese girls slip past me and walk through the door
I follow them back and watch them take seats in the corner of the bar
I remember them now they'd been in here a couple of times
I thought they were tourists
They think I'm a tourist

I turn round and, breathe out fast as, down the back corridor by the bins there's doors, doors, doors
I spend the rest of the night travelling, without going anywhere

Chicago
Jakarta
Helsinki
Cape Town
São Paulo
Manchester
Bangalore
And somewhere in Russia I can't actually remember the name of

I spend so much time on the move
Working, teaching, surviving
Ducking and diving
And now it feels like I never went anywhere

Of all the bars, in all the world, maybe you're always gonna come to the same one
Into the same bar

Sitting on the same stool
Drinking the same beer
Wearing the same shoes
Eating the same food
Sitting on the same stool
Drinking the same beer
Wearing the same shoes
Eating the same food

Sitting on the same stool
Drinking the same beer
Wearing the same shoes
Eating the same food
Sitting on the same stool
Drinking the same beer
Wearing the same shoes
Eating the same food

Sitting on the same stool
Drinking the same beer
Wearing the same shoes
Eating the same food
Sitting on the same stool
Drinking the same beer
Wearing the same shoes
Eating the same food

Sitting on the same stool
Drinking the same beer
Wearing the same shoes
Eating the same food