A Monday Night in Eimsbüttel- April 2020
Tonight, after saying goodbye to my parents on Facetime for approximately ten minutes (why is it we always come up with everything we meant to say in the previous 45 minutes, in the last 5 seconds?), I went for an evening stroll in my neighborhood of Hamburg. The fresh spring air was too good to waste in this normally rainy city, so I threw on my light jacket and some not-cute shoes and set off to wind my way through Eimsbüttel’s sweet, balcony-clad streets for a few minutes. And as I rounded a very familiar corner, I heard something a bit unfamiliar these days.
Music.
And not the surplus sounds of a pedestrian’s too-loud headphones, I heard proper MUSIC. And as I curiously moved along the sidewalk I know so well from my frequent trips to Die Kleine Konditorei (best bread in town. Fight me.), I saw something that baffled both my eyes and my heart. A street full of socially-distanced couples and singles, with a glass of wine from their nearby apartments, smiling, listening, and gazing up at the hero I now call “Balcony Man.”
As I took in the sight, and started to register what I was witnessing, my eyes became annoyingly misty and my heart started to swell.
Balcony Man was hanging out the window of his post-war apartment building, with a casual cigarette clenched between his teeth, as his giant speaker lay proudly propped up in the nook beside him spewing “Come and Get Your Love.” As the song came to an end the street erupted in cheers. I rushed over to an open sidewalk space, a few meters from any neighbors, and claimed my spot at the hottest evening in town.
Just as the applause faded, a spectator called up, “Hey Balcony Man! Isn’t it your birthday today?”
While it was too dark to see, I imagine Balcony Man blushed as the entire street, from end to end, started to murmur congratulations, before one brave soul started scream-singing “HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU” in an absolutely impossible key. Nonetheless, everyone joined in. I switched octaves a few times before hitting the sweet spot, and loudly exclaimed every vowel I knew when it came to “HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR AEIOU…MAYBE Y. HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU.”
And then, with the brief intermission over, Balcony Man returned to his DJing duties. After all, he had a job to do, and a (quarantined) club full of non-paying customers to satisfy. As a lovely, sweeping Italian ditty started filling the growingly popular lane in Eimsbüttel, I spotted a fluorescent vest just as the music volume started to peter off, and the speaker suddenly disappeared.
Oh hello, police officers.
As two young cops assumed their position below Balcony Man’s DJ booth, they called up some inaudible German. (I’m sure it went something like, “How’s the weather up there?” “Yeah nice, thanks.” “Sehr Gut.”) After a few back and forths, I gathered that music itself was indeed allowed to echo through the streets of Eimsbüttel, and the speaker was returned to its rightful window perch.
As the cops turned around to survey the street-turned-quarantine music café, they called out “And you’re all keeping your distance?” to which the entire street enthusiastically raised their glasses and said “JA!”
And without further ado, Balcony Man asked the police if they had any song requests, which they understandably did not, and watched as the fluorescent vests slowly disappeared down the street, to thunderous applause from my new favorite corner of Eimsbüttel.
One song more, and then it was all over just as beautifully as it began.
Cheers to you, Balcony Man, and thank you for making your birthday one I will always remember.
Just a sweet nothing to remind you of the light that is waiting to be discovered in the most unknown of tunnels. Sending you all a hug. Turn on a speaker and blast “Come and Get your Love” this evening. I’m listening.