Once when I lived in Vienna near the Schloss Belvedere, I had a Viennese writer friend call me on my cell. “I can’t meet with you today,” he said, “I am in the hospital.” Thinking something terrible had happened since I had seen him the week before when he seemed the image of good health, I asked, “What happened?”
“I can’t tell you. Or, I will tell you when I see you next. For now, I am in the hospital.” I thought this was odd but I didn’t want to pry. So I decided to offer some support. He had just completed his Ph.D. in deutsche Philologie and since I was about to do something similar, I thought that freaks like us should really try to stick together.
I told my friend I was coming by to visit him at the hospital. After all, I had learned all about how to handle the Viennese hospitals the year before when my hand and arm were accidentally sliced open when I collided with a glass window that got in my way. My Viennese friend said it was his first time in the hospital ever. I had something to teach a Viennese guy about Vienna. I was elated.
On my way to the hospital, I got lost and called my friend again. I asked him to just give me a hint about what landed him the hospital. “It was really itchy and it wouldn’t go away,” he muttered into the phone right as I turned the corner into Juchgasse where the old municipal Rudolfstiftung hospital is and unwillingly, I thought “Juckgasse” and “Juchhegasse” in two shots, bam bam. I needed to stop being silly before I got to my friend’s bedside. Still, it was hard, since this friend in particular was my only Schmäh sparring partner in Vienna. No one else would even try it with me, I suppose because I looked like a bewildered American. Who knows? So I was ready to be witty and jokey, even though I knew my friend was probably in the Spital for a good reason.
So I walked through the corridors and I found him. Nothing strange to be seen there and my friend was smirking and seemed genuinely happy to see the big ornamental pepper plant I brought him. He still wouldn’t tell me why he was there. But he leaned over and whispered to me: “The hospital just moved me into this room with the guy over there. He has terminal kidney cancer.” I looked up and saw the older, distinguished man who shared the hospital room with my friend. He seemed knocked out from pain meds. Above his head, I noticed a sign that read, Dipl. Ing. Dr. Maxmillian Prochaska. That wasn’t his real name, but since I saw that name Prochaska everywhere in Vienna, I just remembered it that way. What impressed me was the Dipl. Ing. Dr. before his name. I noted above the head of my friend a similar sign with the simplistic looking title of Dr. It seemed small for all the work I was doing to try to get the same title. My friend asked me to take a walk with him around the hospital and to hold his IV pouch through which the vitamin water was getting pumped into his system.
As we walked, he told me what happened: before, he had been in a room with another guy his age who was learning to be a Steinmetz or maybe it was a Pflasterleger, I can’t remember exactly. I remember thinking it involved building walls. The other guy had a compound fracture of his leg, a common problem in the Alpine Republik where the mountains and skiing are never far away. But the hospital staff learned about my friend’s recent Ph.D. and insisted that he be changed to another room where someone with a similar degreed title also lay. Because, I suppose, it would be bad form for a simple Maurer and a university Doktor to be watching TV together while they recovered from their illnesses. Inwardly, I raged against the Austrian Titelwahn and what I thought was the classism and at the very least, a misguided idea about how the gebildete people should enjoy spending time together. My friend was also scandalized as a lefty but went along with the hospital’s protocol about keeping the “titled” separated from the other patients. My friend leaned into speak to me in hushed tones, “It’s so embarrassing,” he said, “especially since the reason I am here is because I have scabies ‘down there’ after a one-night stand with a married woman from an aristocratic family. We met at one of the Opera Ball parties and arranged to meet on a whim. We thought it would be fun to have a secret affair in a cheap hotel and it was the dirty bed that did me in.”
My eyes widened. I looked at my friend. “An affair with an aristocrat and a sexually transmitted microbial disease? That’s the most bourgeois thing I have ever heard! I guess you belong here after all.” He laughed. It seemed my Viennese education was finally starting to stick.
Just so you can get a sense for the titles you can have in Vienna, some of which will get you a better hospital bed, below I have included a list of the various titles you can select when you subscribe as a new customer to the Wiener Staatsoper. I don’t know why some are capitalized and others not. It’s best not to ask too many questions.
Abg., Abg. z. NR Dr., Abgeordneter, Amtsrat, -Arch., Arch., ARCH., Arch. Ing., Arch.Ing., ARCH.ING., ARCH.MAG., ARCH.PROF., Bakk., Bakk. art., Bakk. (FH), Bakk. iur., Bakk. phil., Bakk. Phil., Bakk. rer. nat., Bakk. rer. soc. oec., Bakk. techn., Bakk. theol., BC, Bgm., BM, Botschafter, Botschafter Dr., Botschaftsrat, Botschaftsrätin, Bundesminister a.D., Bürgermeister, Bürgermeister Dr., DDr., DDR., DI, DI.Dr., Dipl. Arch., Dipl. Bw., Dipl. Dolm., Dipl. Inf., Dipl. Ing., Dipl. Ing. Dr., Dipl. Ing. (FH), Dipl. Ing. Mag., Dipl. Math., Dipl. Met., Dipl. Oec., Dipl. Öko., Dipl. -Päd., Dipl. Phil., Dipl. Soz., Dipl. Vw., Dipl.-Arch., DIPL.ARCH., Dipl.Biol., Dipl.Bw., DIPL.DOLM., Dipl.-Geogr., Dipl.Geol., Dipl.Ing., DIPL.ING., Dipl.Ing.Dr., DIPL.ING.DR., DIPL.ING.MAG., Dipl.Math., Dipl.Met., DIPL.MET., Dipl.Oec., Dipl.Öko., Dipl.-Päd., DIPL.PHIL., DIPL.PHYS., Dipl.Soz., Dipl.Vw., DIPL.VW., Dipl.VW MR aD, Dir., DIR., Dir. Dr., Dir. Mag., DIR.DR., Dkfm., DKFM., Dkfm. Dr., Dkfm. Mag., Dkfm. Mag. Dr., Dkfm.Dr., DKFM.DR., DKFM.MAG., Doz. Dr., Doz.Dr., DOZ.DR., Dr., DR., Dr. Mag., Dr. med. dent., Dr. med. vet., Dr.Ing., Gen. Dir., GEN.DIR., Gen.Dir. Dr., Gouverneur, Gouverneur Dr., Hofrat, HOFRAT, Hofrat Dipl.Ing., Hofrat DIPL.ING., HOFRAT DIPL.ING., Hofrat Dr., HOFRAT DR., Hofrat Mag., Hofrat Prof., Honorarkonsul, Ing., ING., Ing. Dkfm., Ing. Dr., Ing. Mag., Ing.Dkfm., ING.DKFM., Ing.Dr., ING.DR., Ing.Mag., ING.MAG., Ing.MSD, Intendant, Kammersänger, Komm.Rat, KOMM.RAT, Komm.Rat Ing., KOMM.RAT Ing., KOMM.RAT ING., KOMM.RAT PROF., Konsul, Konsul Dr., KR Dkfm., KR Dr., L.Abg., Landeshauptmann-Stv., LL.M., Lord, MA, Mag., MAG., Mag. Arch., Mag. DDr., Mag. Dkfm., Mag. Dr., Mag. (FH), Mag. pharm., Mag.arch., MAG.DDR., Mag.DI., MAG.DKFM., Mag.Dr., MAG.DR., MAS, MBA, M.B.L., MD, MdA, MdB, MdL, MDr., Med.Rat Dr., M.E.S., MIB, Min.Rat, MIN.RAT, Min.Rat Dr., MIN.RAT DR., MIN.RAT Mag., MIN.RAT MAG., MMag., MMAG., MPH, MR Dr., MR Dr., MS, MSc, Oberamtsrat, Oberleutnant d.Res., Oberst, Oberstudiendirektor, ObstA Dr., OMR.DR., OSR, OStR., OSTR., OStR. Prof., OSTR.PROF., Pastor, Pastorin, Pfarrer, PhD, Präs. Gen.Dir. Dr., Präsident Ing., Prim. Dr., Prim. MR Dr., Prim. Prof. Dr., Prim. Univ. Prof. Dr., Prim.Dr., PRIM.DR., Prim.Univ.-Prof.Dr., Prof., PROF., Prof. DI. Dr., Prof. Dr., Prof. Dr. Dr., Prof. Mag., Prof.Dipl.Ing., PROF.DKFM., Prof.Dr., PROF.DR., Prof.Dr.Dr., Prof.Mag., PROF.MAG., RA, RAe., Reg. Rat, Reg.Dir., Reg.Rat, REG.RAT, Reg.Rat Ing., SEKTIONSCHEF, Senator, Senator Dipl.Ing. Dr., Senator h.c Prof. Dr. Dr., StD, StR. Dr., Studienrat, STUDIENRAT, Univ. Doz., Univ. Doz. Dr., Univ. -Doz. MMag. DDr., Univ. Prof., Univ. Prof. Dr., UNIV.DOZ., Univ.-Doz. MMag. DDr., Univ.Doz.Dr., Univ.-Lektor Prof. MMag, Univ.Prof., UNIV.PROF., Univ.Prof.Dr., Vizebürgermeister
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