01-VIII-1973.: Night in slammer
Swiss national holiday. The stones we laid for a campfire on the nearby meadow last year was still there. As fuel, we used the remains of the scaffold for the unfinished house on the next lot, the other side of it this time. Wine flowed, we ate peanuts, roasted the first round of meat, I already gave up on a couple of dummy french girls. Here comes Nisla's dad and howls something in german. To stop the fire, cops are coming in ten minutes. I took some spectacled guy, both of us drunk already, to take that endless battery that Rudolf left me - it's a whole bucket, used for the yellow flasher on roadworks, if you forget to turn it off you have three months to remember. When we came back, the cops were already there, everyone speaks only foreign. The cops mumble, vatra kako se ono kaže niks gut, vino niks gut, koka kola gut ajde pička vam materina gasi to ajd gubite se kako se ono kaže majku mu zaboravija san ma bjež ća, marš.
We disperse, reconvene on the dock. Interesting phenomenon - whenever the old man appears, Nisla somehow vanishes and magically reappears when he's gone. He and Tejka took the rest of the meat and sausages to his house and fried them, brought them so we ate and drank on.
I had a quick grab with some norwegian girl, they told me she was too loud and wouldn't shut up, so okay. Then her guy, Arno, comes from a pee and she goes "hey he is a natural just like you, you're good but he's good too". Then a bit with him, a bit with me. Then a crazyman came by and Tejka told me to shut her up. Okay, mouth to mouth technique, horizontal. Tejka said my method was quite original. I ask Arno what do we do with her. He says do whatever you want, it's her body, her vacation. She says take me to the tent. Don't know if it's available. I mean your tent. Tomorrow (he's had enough). But they left somehow.
Last day, 2nd of august. Nisla returned my lamp, we bought four liters of wine and took to the dock. Found another two sisters from Slovenia who, this time, speak serbian too. Tried the younger one, due process, and a blonde she was and looked older, but wasn't sad when they left. Rada and Dara reappear, I'd treat them but we ran out of wine. They go to get some. We weren't expecting them to return, and a light rain began, so we changed location a few times, not quite knowing where to go. Veca and Sneca were there for a while, then left. We ended up at the school, the entrance has a roofed area so serves well when raining. We sat there, sang, I took the blonde one (of course) to the side. We kissed a little, she told me not to lie on the concrete for kidneys' sake, and "you are some temperamental type", and then someone burst with something really funny, and I laughed heartily, bending backwards until the glass on the door behind me broke. Didn't realize it was so close. Some Š. from Vinkovci took out the hanging shards, the girl and I pull away, the guys start entering, the other girl turned some lights on and off, one of the B. brothers tried to make a phone call but I kept my finger on the switch so he couldn't, somehow I persuaded them all to leave the building before any damage was done. Then we left and didn't enter anymore, sang some more, someone whispered something and those who got it suddenly vanished, including most of the girls. We who had drunk more didn't notice the cops on time. Blue rotational, no siren, a van. We almost got out but they caught one of the guys, we all play on solidarity and "one goes, we all go", give up on escape. Seven frajers (me, the Novisadists, Š. from Vinkovci) and two girls. They stuffed us into the van, one got slapped, we waited a while, then the van took us downtown to the police. We all sobered up momentarily, except Š. who played "Ivo Lola"* on his cassette player. Ah, some revolutionaries we are, oh yes. We shut him up quickly.
At the station he complained, asked to have it in the log that he got beaten, so the young cop who disliked us gave him a real one. I also got a couple of batons on my shoulder, luckily I had dad's knit vest so not even a bruise. As long as it's not on the head, kidneys or balls. They took me upstairs for interrogation, an okay guy there, heard me fairly, no hatred nor bias. I guess he knows what kind of blown up reports he gets from the crazymen. Evidence on me consisted of a bandanna and a beer opener.
We spent the night in one cell, on the floor. There was some cardboard, but it was mostly planks. Everyone visited the kibla (pee bucket) at least twice. The girls were let go.
In the morning, at the misdemeanor judge, we put the story together. The crazymen noticed the lights in the school, they knew that I'm a stowaway (since ten days ago), they kept an eye on me since the menu case, they never caught me but counted on my involvement, so they composed the story, whereby we broke into the school, smashed windows (notice the sudden appearance of plural), performed orgies in there (yeah, the blonde and I had a five second grab, standing, if that counts), and as dad said later, they celebrated this as if they caught Hitler himself.
So we paid (dad did, that is) fine/damages of 10000, I endured dad's angry looks and shout of "so this is it?" when he saw us on the street, being escorted from the slammer to the misdemeanor court (same building, next door), and that was it. My night in jail.
When the story came clear - he heard one version from the cop at the entrance - the anger passed. The Novisadists came to borrow some, they'll pay it back (sure they will, I kept winking at dad to give nothing, but no). All those crazymen are ex cops or worse, many a retired udbaš, anything that's not a pre-war party member is under suspicion and should be prevemptively processed. They just wait for their moment under the spotlight. If we really wanted to break in, we wouldn't have turned on the lights. Fuck the logic.
Most of the morning was spent on farewell with the waitresses and the crowd, and gathering the money for the fine. Novisadists are mad and yet refuse any idea of spreading the burden (I should pay at least half) yet try to funnel as much money to themselves as possible. The guys from Vinkovci helped as much as they could, even Arno and his friend did.
Around noon we packed and went. Spent the night in Neum, private rooms. At the dinner, dad spoke of how I should pick better company (as if I had any high opinion on the Novi crowd before) and that he won't hear the name of Nisla anymore (which didn't stop him from being chummy with the old man in the following years). How bad reputation reaches far, think of carreer etc. Veca and Sneca think I'm a hero. Unbelievable.
Fourth of august, the rest of the trip home. The pictures above were shot along the way, the first one probably around Šibenik, judging by he shape of the shore, this is Sneca and Veca (their mom on the left) during a coffee break. The second is when we made a stop at Tjentište. Whatever gripes I may have about the style and form of my country's official culture, it still has magnificent monuments. This is a piece of art.
The whole gang (both families except, of course, me behind the camera) is on the plateau. Veca and Sneca should be the two silhouettes on the right.
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* a single by Korni grupa, about the guy of the same name, who was one of the famed seven secretaries of SKOJ, i.e. communist youth organization, who died tragically during the WWII. Most of the lyrics in the song are from his letter to his girlfriend Sloboda (Freedom). The song was quite a hit, one of those that give you goose bumps, quite emotional
Mentions: frajer, Novi Sad, Rudolf Ochsner, Slanislav Dunjić (Nisla), Slavica Tejin (Tejka), Snežana Stojanović (Sneca), udbaš, Vera Stojanović (Veca), in serbian