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volunteer. “You got to go to the East,” they say. “Bavaria,” say others. Many send me to Austria.
    But I am in the north of Germany. Are there no Nazis in the north?
    Of course not. Hamburg people cannot be Nazis. “We don’t have Nazis in the north of Germany,” proud Hamburgers like to tell me. Unless, that is, you meet people here who are not native Hamburgers, the ones who really don’t care for the good name of Hamburg. “Yes,” they tell me, the north-haters, “there are plenty of Nazis” around. Where? “You can start in Neumünster,” they say, “and then keep going.”
    Neumünster. You heard of it? I never did, but it exists. Let’s go!
•••

Chapter 4
Joining the Radical Right against the Jewish Devil
    Starting point: Titanic. Part cafe, part club, and mainly a darts pub. Men and women, who all know each other and every two minutes “give five” to each other, keep throwing darts at about five dartboards. In between they drink beer, more beer, coffee, and more beer. Cappuccino. Beer and beer. Another cappuccino. Another beer. More beer. And one more beer. Then coffee. And a beer. In the two hours or so that I watch them I see one man hitting the bull’s-eye one time. Usually, the closest they get to the target is somewhere between the double and triple ring, and often they get no closer than outside those. Like on the floor. These people are not going to be CIA assassins. But who cares? One coffee, two beers,
bitte
.
    I think: The leftists, or radical leftists, have only beer. Beer and more beer. These people here make a combo, beer and coffee. Does this mean that they are Nazis, or neo-Nazis?
    Well, could be. This is Germany. Anything goes here. Lemonade means left, so go figure. I don’t know. I’m only a tourist. Can I get two coffees and one beer,
bitte
? I ask the waiter. Oh God, I hope I didn’t make a mistake. Two coffees, one beer might mean something here. I hope it doesn’t mean Jewish or something. That would be horrible. I mean, if they’re Nazis.
    Don’t laugh. This is all serious business here.
    “That’s a dangerous place,” people told me before I went to Neumünster. “You must be very careful. Please don’t wear your red scarf! Red is left. Leave your scarf at home. Please!”
    I laughed, and my red scarf was laughing with me. But now we are both pretty quiet, my red scarf and me.
    Two coffees. Am I nuts?
    Maybe I should order a bottle of Vodka, I hear myself talking to my own self . . .No, please don’t! With your red scarf . . .!
    I’m losing my mind, if I still have one. I’m not really sure.
    While in Hamburg, I was told by the north-haters that there’s a place called Club 88 in Neumünster. The number 88 stands for HH,
Heil Hitler
. The question is: Where the heck is it? Maybe these darts people know. I can ask them, can’t I? Let’s try:
    Excuse me: Do you know how to get from here to Club 88?
    Asking doesn’t cost money. And if they are leftists, even if they have guns I shouldn’t worry. These folks can’t aim.
    But the Titanic people, it turns out, don’t think of shooting me. Don’t even dream of it. They are very happy to help out. Club 88 is their kind of place. They gladly give me the directions. Great. I’ve hit the bull’s-eye.
    Club 88. Have you ever been there? From the outside it looks like a great place, full of promise. Problem is, it’s closed. Its black doors do not respond to my attempts to open them. But Jews, let me tell you, couldn’t survive thousands of years in exile if they didn’t have patience. I have patience. And patience pays.

    Frank, the owner of Club 88, drives by. He parks his car and says Hallo.
    Heil Hitler
. We are in business.
    He opens the doors wide.
    And more people come in. Devotees.
    I tell my new friends that I’m a computer analyst from the United States and that both my parents are German. I was born in Germany, I explain to them, but my parents emigrated to America when I was one year old.