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( Piergiorgio Leaci ITA – Odissee selvagge )
January the thirty-first was the last day of a long suffering. Every morning I had woken up at half past six, after a night of long guzzling and nicotine. Christ! It was a miracle that I was even alive. I will not try anything like that anymore. I was not a birdbrain.
That damn-fool Danish course had just caused me trouble. I sat at the third bench with my eyelids heavy, heaving and my breath was metallic. I was like a garbage bag that could not stand up. Luckily the class was free of charge. I attended it since I needed the frequency certificate to enter the Danish University. Only two truancies and I would have been excluded.
The morning it was like I had risen from the dead: I rammed into the furniture, flopped down, knocked my head, then got up and went into the showerbox. The cold water woke me up. Later I realized that I was dressed.
My classmates hated me. I had a bad reputation: filthy, stinking of beer, wine and they cool and clean. They just got drunk at week-ends. The other days they were sober and boring. Only two Americans were nice to me: Henry and Liam, from New York. They were gays, but were not engaged. Only good friends, as Henry often repeated me: “We don’t feel physical mutual affinity. We make joke of it from time to time. Some handjobs, but nothing for real.”
In the first months we were always together, then they left for a trip around Europe and I have never seen them again. According to circulating rumours Liam is in Africa, in Ghana and is engaged to a model. Henry is in Amsterdam and has become a vegetable because of hard drugs. This is the way of the world.
I fancied them. They were not as snobbish as the rest of the Erasmus group. If they felt like farting in public, they simply did it.
******
It was the last day of the lesson and a special event had been organized: in the morning a tour of a museum, lunch in the canteen of an university offered by the Language and Culture Committee, then a guided tour to the Ceres brewery and at night the notorious Pub Crawling. I was risking death.
Our meeting was in front of the Kunst Dansk Museum at nine o'clock. That night I had not slept. I had drunk the whole time with Kate, a girl that had picked me up in an Irish Pub. But we did not have sex. She had her period. We chattered about this and that. Then she took my penis in her mouth. When I remembered the rendezvous it was eleven thirty. I jumped out of the bed, got dressed and rushed to the meeting place.
Nobody was waiting outside. I went in through the main entrance and saw the group in the hall. They came from all over Europe. A concentration of racial stupidity. Nature had created such shit and then had forgotten it. They were sitting on some sofas, and were looking daggers at me. They had been waiting and wanted to be thanked.
“Here he is. He has managed to wake up. Do you know that you are late?”, asked a Spaniard with a red, porous and greasy skin. Deep scars hollowed her cheeks adorned by scattered white pimples. Luckily I had not had breakfast, otherwise I would have vomited the cereals on her devastated face.
“Yeah, and you have an evolution gap. Have you scratched your face with sand paper?”
A Norwegian defended her.
“And you have left your good-manners at home?”
“I know that I am late. I don't have my brain embalmed like yours. Go to shit on the snowed lands of this frozen country”, I concluded and reached my friends, Henry, Liam and Andrew that were roaring with laughter.
“Johnny. I like you. You always say what you think”, said Andrew the German.
“Yes, but only when I am drunk!”
“You are a man with iron balls”, Liam mentioned with a smile.
“And there is always somebody to hurt them.”
“We are going to buy some beer at the nearby supermarket“, the German said, “I will pay!”
“O.K.! Let’s go for a drink, then!”
We moved away for about twenty minutes. The group started the guided tour.
“I wonder why people find museums so interesting?”, Henry asked me, “there is always a stuffy smell. No beer. You cannot smoke. There are not handsome men. It’s an old folk’s home.”
“You are not susceptible to the various artistic forms. You are not able to interpret the symbolism of modern art. You appreciate only the masculine shapes, especially in length.”
“Listen! Don’t mention the sensibility of forms. I have seen the tarts that you screw. You don't even have any kind of sensibility either!”
“Stop it! I have a dry throat. Let’s hurry up and have our beer”, the bored German uttered.
We drank the beers and smoked. Then we reached the group. They were in a large lounge full of canvases. It seemed that somebody had thrown up the colours. They were listening to a young guide and nodding. They appeared to appreciate contemporary art. I felt ignorant. The group went further into another room and gathered around a sculpture. I drew near. I made room pushing with my elbows and reached the first line. The guide was a tall and slender girl. I looked at her eyes and saw the sky. I had to try my luck.
I got back to the reception and drew on a sheet of paper two babies that were running to meet a big heart with my telephone number written on it. I folded it up and went back to where I had left her. She was speaking about a canvas.
“It was painted in 1818 by a Danish painter. We don’t know that much about him. He left us a diary where he wrote about his life. He was an alcoholic. He lived alone. No friends. Only bottles and brushes. First he drank, then materialized his nightmares on the canvas. He died crazy and alone!”
“It never rains but it pours!”, I reflected.
Her words shook me and burnt me inside She spoke as if she had known him. She was an artist too. She had a sensitive mind. A lot of women did not even have a soul. I went up to her and inserted the note in her bag. I just had to wait.
The group moved shouting into the lounge of abstract sculptures, with humanlike busts in the faint light. They represented men that had realized they were dead when it was too late. An empty trunk consumed by the rain of life was the only thing remaining of them. I could not bear them and went out to smoke.
It was snowing. I went to the market to buy a bottle of red French wine. It was the most economic one thanks to the boycotting. It did not mind of that the atomic bomb that was going to be exploded on that atoll. I was interested in saving. I paid and drank it in the hall.
My stomach was empty and my head full of thoughts. The old woman at the reception was looking at me and smiling. She was wearing some glasses with lenses as thick as the bottom of bottles. Her face was stormed by moles. I did not feel like drinking anymore and this did not happen that often.
******
Around 13:00 p.m. we were on the way to the university. The group walking in front, my friends and I behind. It was snowing less. We kept our distance from them. It was not healthy for our spirit to merge into the crowd. We were discussing what would have been offered for lunch. I hoped fish, shrimps and the like. Liam preferred a man’s thigh of around thirty years of age, his favourite meal. He would have consumed the fish later. A mullet long about forty centimetres straight up his ass and he would have smiled once gain. Each of us had his secret.
It was cold. The alcohol running into my veins gave me a feeling of false comfort.
“Johnny. Your eyes are red. Are you tired?”, Henry asked me.
“My feet are aching!"
“What did you do last Saturday? I called you. I had an appointment with two lesbians”, Thimo said, breathing on his hands.
“Nothing really. I was with Kazaam in his college. He had invited two girls that he had met that morning.”
“And how did he convince them to come?”
“He told them that I would strip.”
“And did you do?”
“Of course! But after my spaghetti with tuna!”
“AH, AH! You are obsessed with spaghetti. AH, AH!”, Liam laughed.
“They didn't stop laughing”, I continued, warming up my hands with the flame of a lighter.
“Were they making fun of your body?”, asked Henry.
“No! Because of my pink underpants!”
“What? Do you wear pink underpants? It is not possible!”, asked Thimo upset.
“Nope! Don't worry you. It has happened with my first laundry. I put a red wool sweater in the washing machine with the underclothes. The sweater became discoloured and the laundry got pink!”
Thimo breathed a sigh of relief. After a while we reached the Faculty of Mathematics. We entered, went down the stairs and found ourselves in the Kantine. We were alone there. Only a laid table and some waiters were with us. On the table we saw some fish, some burnt beefsteaks, spaghetti, chicken, several sauces, strong seasonings and a lot of bottles of red wine. The party could start. I gave the go-ahead. I rushed, seized, filled my mouth up and gobbled up in two sips of Chianti. Then I burped to make room in my stomach. Everybody was staring at me sickened. I was disgusting as a human being. As pig I was excused. I am not joking, but am modest.
When I had enough of it, I sat with my group and drained together several glasses of wine, laughing and miming a fellatio on the bottle.
Everybody joined us to drink. The atmosphere became relaxed Alcohol brings people together. I could not sit. The chair did not keep still. It was moving, swinging and turning as if it was possessed by an evil spirit. I had my tongue burnt by alcohol and tried to swallow it. It went down the wrong way. I started coughing. Then I spewed my guts up on a Spaniard. I put my stomach straight and I made a new enemy.
“Johnny”, asked Thimo worried, “Do you need any help?”
I nodded and went to the toilette. The room was turning around. It did not stop to make me pause for breath. The handle of the door did not keep still. I could not catch it. A woman that felt sorry for me, kicked the door that burst open and she hustled me in. I lost my balance and slumped on piss, wine and beer. I got up and put my head in the cold tap water. Then I dried and went out.
I was stinking like an open sewer. In the room there were only the waiters cleaning. Everybody had left the place.
I marshalled my thoughts and went to the Ceres brewery.
People on the road were revolted by me. I was used to it. I arrived at the brewery. The porter looked at me in a strange way. Usually people went in sober and came out drunk. I had spared that work. I asked him if an Erasmus group was already inside . He nodded. His glance was icy, and his mouth looked to be drawn. He accompanied me down for damp and cold staircases. The smell of beer was very strong.
They were sitting around some wooden tables. They were howling, shrieking and drinking beer. They looked happy. My friends were at a table at the bottom of the bar and were waiting for me. I felt better.
“Hi, guys!”, I howled shaking their hands.
“For God’s sake! Where have you been?”, shouted Thimo.
“I was in the toilette spewing my guts up.”
“We thought that you had gone!”, said Henry.
“And how? I can’t even stand?”
“Take a seat! Let’s start drinking!”
The wooden backrest creaked. There were twelve beers on the table, each one different from the other. I opened one with my lighter. Thimo guzzled his beer, rubbed his red eyes and roared like a lion. He had challenged me. I only managed to be slower than him. The empty bottles on the table were trembling and one fell down the floor, but did not break. We finished the first round in ten minutes and asked for more beers. A pretty blonde with a sensual smile on her lips, entered the room, pushing a well furnished cart and left it before us. Thimo put two bottles in the pockets of his lumber-jacket and opened one with his teeth.
“I have a problem!”, I said.
“What?”, asked Liam.
“I don't know if I will get up tomorrow .”
“Who will force you to do that? The main thing is to be on our feet till dawn.”
I smiled. I knew that I would not have succeeded.
I got up and looked for the bathroom. I did not find it. I went to the kitchen and vomited in the sink. Thimo followed me after five minutes, but did not reach the sink. He vomited, coating with a yellowish foam the earthen floor. We rinsed our face. We went back, but I bumped into Finn who had got up for a toast. He dropped on the table, pouring the bottles over other people. I went to my seat acting as if nothing was happening.
“BASTARD. I WILL KILL YOU!”
He took a bottle and hurled it against me. It passed me by without striking me. The second one hit me and hurt me. I picked it up and threw it back. Shortly afterwards we were on the floor. The bastard was more sober. He was thwacking me, while I was panting.
Two security guards came and separated us. Then we were brought upstairs and thrown out. We landed close to a garbage container, among empty bottles of Ceres, condoms, handkerchiefs, old crumpled up newspapers, old numbers of Play Boy. My environment.
Twenty minutes later everybody went out. Thimo helped me to get up. Henry wiped my jacket. I was ready for the Pub Crawling.
******
We entered an anonymous and empty night club. There were some candles on the tables and on the shelves among the liquor bottles. The shades reflected by the objects looked animate. They were twisting, turning on themselves. I did not know if it was an effect of alcohol, but it was all right this way.
“It’s a pity that there is not anybody!”, Thimo said, drawing some smoke rings in the air.
“Who should come to drink at eight and thirty? People are home”, I objected.
“An empty place gives me a sense of uselessness. It is more amusing when it is crowded.”
“I don't know. I will sit down .”
“No, wait! Why don’t you score that angel serving at the counter?’”
“I can’t! Nearby there is the devil”, I said pointing out a big animal.
“Don’t worry. In Denmark you can tease their women. They don’t say anything.”
“O.K. Tell me a nice sentence in Danish!”
He scrawled a few notes on a sheet of paper and gave it to me. I went to the counter and ordered a beer. Then I gave her the paper. She read it and slapped me. I went back to my seat with my head bowed in shame. All the group was laughing at me.
“BASTARD!! WHAT HAVE YOU WRITTEN?”
“AH, AH, AH. Du er smuk og sød. Skal vi bolle? AH, AH.”
“What does that mean?”
“AH, AH. You are beautiful and nice. Shall we fuck? AH, AH, AAHIO”
I choked his laughter with a fist in his stomach.
“Don’t try to do that again or I will kill you!”
I drank up my draught beer and left the glass on the counter. The girl had forgotten me. I went to take a seat in a dark corner and smoked a pack of Prince.
Thimo and Henry joined me with three pints of beer.
“This is for you. Will you forgive me?”
“I have already. Sorry for the fist. When I am drunk, I am out of control.”
“I noticed that in the cellar you looked like a furious animal.”
“Yeah. What a shame that I did not knock him down!”
I gripped my pint and had a sip, then I burst out laughing.
“What’s up?”, Henry asked me lighting a cigarette.
“Look at that bitch. At first she behaved like a goody-goody and now…”
Henry turned towards the counter. The hulk was behind her and fingering her breasts, while she was refilling glasses.
“You tried your luck in the wrong way.”
“No!”, I corrected him, “On the wrong side.”
We laughed all together.
******
After facing different pubs we were on the road again. The last stop was at the Blitz, a two-storey disco with three dance floors. Honestly, I did not care that much about it. I was using my brain just to go step by step. We arrived. Usually drunk people were stopped at the entry because they did not consume. We entered. We did not leave our jackets in the cloakroom because we would have forgotten them. When you are down, every necessary precautions must be taken. I went to the toilette to pee. Later I turned on the tap and put my head under the cold water. It was useless. I was abandoned to my fate. I puffed and could not ask for help. I vomited and went out staggering.
Thimo and Henry had not waited for me. I saw a free armchair. I sat down , but I fell to the ground. I tried again with strength. I ended up on the ground once more. I gave up. I fixed my eyes upon the legs passing by. They were lean in coloured tights. I touched them. A couple of times I was lucky: I reached the groin.
Most of them left me with indifference. They understood that it was the price to be paid to carry all that inflammable stuff. Some did not agree. They kicked my stomach. Every kick turned into a heave. I could not manage to get up. Then I lost consciousness and did not remember anything.
At dawn I was lying on the sidewalk with my nose bleeding. The disco was closed. I embraced a lamp-post and got up. All my body was a livid bruise. A cab passed me. I stopped it and I gave the driver my address, fifty crowns and shut my eyes. I fell asleep, while the city was waking up.