Tuesday, February 21, 2017

Fasching is not felching...

Right now, it's fasching season in Germany.  Lots of very Catholic towns have flags strewn across their streets and parades going on.  In Baden-Württemberg, where we live, people are dressing up in scary costumes and marching in parades.  I've heard that in Bavaria, where our landlady is from, the costumes are more silly and cute than scary.  Despite having lived in Germany for awhile now, Bill and I haven't yet attended a fasching parade.  I don't know why.  It could be because I don't like crowds.

Anyway, lots of people in the local community are interested in fasching.  There's been a lot of talk about the parades on Facebook.  And every time I see the word "fasching", I think of another word.  It's a word that I don't recommend looking up because it means something really disgusting.  If you don't know what "felching" is and you have a weak stomach, I really recommend leaving yourself in ignorant bliss.  Every time I see the word "fasching", I think of "felching"... which is a lot scarier than people dressed in weird costumes.

You may wonder how I learned about felching.  It's actually kind of a funny story, which is the only reason I'm writing about felching in this blog.  I would not want to engage in felching, you see.

Back in the late 1990s, I worked as a waitress at a really nice restaurant in Williamsburg, Virginia.  I had two male friends who were waiters.  One of them was flamboyantly gay.  The other was straight (and even married with a family), but could pass as gay.  They were a lot of fun and got me through many a tough shift.

Anyway, one day I was working with the gay guy and he said sarcastically, "Oh, here comes Mr. Felcher!" as he noticed our straight friend coming in on his day off to pick up his paycheck (which was probably $0 because it was used to pay taxes).

"Mr. Felcher!  That's funny!" I said with a laugh.

"He loves felching." the guy continued.

I didn't realize this was an inside joke between the two men.  I innocently asked, "What is felching?"

By that time, our straight friend came over to say hello and he said, "You want to tell her what felching is?"

So my straight friend told me with a very straight face what that word meant.  Naturally, I laughed about it, but it really is gross.  I repeat, don't look it up unless you can take it.  I mentioned in a local Facebook group that the word fasching made me think of felching and warned people not to look it up.  One guy didn't listen to me and now, like me, he's a little bit wiser about the ways of the world.

Incidentally, after learning about felching, I became a part of the inside joke.  My two guy friends and I used to make up songs about felching and sing them to each other in the kitchen as we prepared bread boats and hot tea.  That made waiting tables a hell of a lot more fun.  Hey... whatever gets you through the night, right?

For those who are curious and want to read an entertaining and informative blog post about felching (that I didn't write), click here.

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