Bike and Beer Club
We take our leave of the new hostel friends and exit FH2 back to the fortress alleyways. We navigate the stony maze to the gate by the docks again and mosey down passed Jadran to the Bike and Beer Club. Things have picked up a smidge since we last investigated and it looks like a scene we could possibly get down with.
Of course then we head inside and, “Holy Boomer alert!” “Hmmm ya, older crowd for sure.”
We get some well g&ts and settle in at a table by the windows. There is a small crowd gathered at the stage area watching a girl singing Montenegrin folk songs or the like. She’s got a really good voice. Unfortunately the low E and G strings on her guitar are horribly out of tune. This makes the predominant chords of her song uncomfortably dissonant with her vocal pitch. Weird that she doesn’t notice. Maybe she can’t hear herself? Anyways, the result is a sound akin to feral cats fuck-fighting in a compost dumpster around 3am. Interesting but not terribly pleasing.
After a couple of tunes she leaves the stage and some other old timers come up that have a promising hard rock look to them. Then they immediately start playing 1980s sounding soft shitty ballads and what’s left of our hopes gets demolished.
“Nope, this is lame. Not rock at all.” “Ya. Cool bar, but nope. Yaron was right.” “Old guys playing shite ballads. Let’s bounce.”
We backtrack to the fortress to see if anything’s kicking within the walls. Missed this giant bell the last time through.
We also spot a flyer on a telephone pole for a place called Maine Night Club. “Dude, you wanna party like you’re in Maine!” “Sounds lame Haha. It’s all set up like an LL Bean…”
It’s quiet inside the fortress. Lots of little side alley sit-down-with-your-best-friend-for-silly-talk type places but not really a scene, per se.
We come across a nice outdoor patio with chill electro-house tunes playing and decide to take a peek at the cocktail list on the bar. Ahhhh it’s outstanding. Staples like penicillin and bees knees. Something called a Porn Star Martini. Yeah, we’re in.
Also, “The bartender looks like the lead singer of Wolfmother.”
There’s a wooden board behind Andrew Stockdale that says La Marzocco. Must be the name of the place. Possibly referencing Donatello’s lion statue in the plaza in Florence. That would kind of make sense, this being a Venetian fortress and all.
“I suppose Florence is a place we could potentially get to if we choose Rome over Athens.” “It’s pretty far North if we took the Bari ferry. Place is bonkers though, you’d love it. Mecca of the arts. I’ve got a buddy in Bologna too, if we actually make it that far.” “From Scotia?” “Ya, high school friend.” “That’d be cool.” “Well.. nothing’s ruled out really. How’s the beastiality?” that’s the drink MacKay got. He does his best Queenie impression, “Ohhh.. Mister Hands..” Bahahahhahah
Stockdale is killing it with the drinks and we are just ticking off the whole cocktail list. Porn star martini. Aviator. Bourbon peach smash. Gin grape drop. Blam blam blam delicious.
One of Kitler’s friends pops in for a visit from the tree above us.
We’re the last people chilling at La Marzocco now and it looks like they’re cleaning up shop. “Get some beers and drink on the fortress beach?” “Whoooooa now yer talkin.”
Unsurprisingly, our bill is enormous as we’ve just pounded 6-8 ten dollar drinks. But we thank the joker and the thief, pay up, and take our leave.
The Carpenter Brut Budva Beach Bash
With the drinks from Jadran, FH2, Bike and Beer Club and La Marzocco all tallied up it’s safe to say we are seriously sauced now. Hard-to-work-a-phone-level sauced. We walk up to the road outside the fortress a bit. “Fuck. How can we make this happen?” A nearby taxi driver yells out his window, “Need a ride.” “Nah man, thanks.” Pause… “Aaaaactually, where can we get some beer at this hour?” “There is market. Two kilometer. 6-7 euros.” “Yep, fuck it.” We hop in.
This taxi driver can sense our ginergy. He’s wide-smiled looking at us all gooned up in his rearview mirror. He starts the car and immediately pedal-down slams it in reverse, flings it around and just balls the jack, kicking stones and fucking flying down the street. Tires skipping. “Whooa shit there Schumacher! Fuck sakes!” “Haha yaaaa man!” MacKay gets meta, “This right here is fucking adventure detective gold, man!”
It’s late and there’s nobody about. Our taxi is soaring through the empty streets, just a blur. The driver just keeps looking in the rearview at our expressions, laughing and laughing like an evil villain. His wide eyes indicate insanity. Eyebrows all over the place as he yells half-English/half-Montenegrin at us over some hard rock music.
It feels like only a minute later he’s pointing pointing and he cuts a corner and just ramps it right up over the curb outside a market and slams on the brakes to come to a screeching stop before hitting the wall of the place. MacKay and I both fly up and bounce off the front seats from the inertia. “Hahaha jeeeeezus.” “Love this guy!”
We head inside man-giggling and the girl at the counter up front is bewildered by the whole scene.
“I swear that taxi is smoking. Like.. something’s on fire.” “I know dude! This guy is ridiculous.” “Alright let’s get 8 of these tall boys.” “Kozel, huh? Like the Czech-out party.” “Totally. Snacks?” “Yeah man, looks like we got salami, cauliflower… some bananas. Fucking dog snacks?” “Good enough for a dog, good enough for me.” “I’m getting these paprika chips.”
We pile our assortment of stupid up at the front cash. “Oooh kinder surprise!” The cashier is less than amused at our shenanigans.
Alright we’re all set. Come back outside and the taxi driver is maniacally smiling at us through the windshield and revving the engine. “Haha what the fuck is up with this guy?” “Ya, I don’t know. It’s hilarious though. Hopefully we don’t get killed or arrested.”
We file in the back of the cab again. Now that I have a red mark on my forehead from the back of the front seat, I decide I’ll strap on the seatbelt this round. I barely get it in and verp verp veeeeerb! We’re flying backwards down the street again. MacKay’s got the holy fuck bar going and we’re both shaking our heads and grinning.
This dude is gunning it backwards down the street and pointing out hooker joints lol. “Here is sex club. Serbian girls. So good. You like?” He’s actually a really good driver. Backing up like crazy fast. He obviously practices this shit.
After the sex strip he spins the taxi back around sideways and punches it forwards. We’re nearly drifting corners now. “The Vin Diesel of Montenegro right here.” “Budva drift! Full throttle.”
We get back to the end of the road by the fortress. “Thanks Schumacher, that was fantastic.” “Yes. I wait here. For sex club.” “Haha ok man.”
And we’re back, cutting through the fortress alleys towards the water. Zero people around now. Nothing open.
We get to the arched gate through the walls back to Plaža Ričardova Glava. Zero people on the beach too. “Wow. Can’t believe nobody is out here doing this.” “Yeah. Place is dead.”
We get some chairs and a table situated and dump our bags of goodies out on it. Nice out here. “Listen to some Carpenter Brut?” “Oh ya, it’s been a while.” “Lets see what Carpenter Brut radio brings up.” We’re in the too-drunk-to-care-about-the-cost-of-streaming-songs-internationally zone.
MacKay is describing some of their crazy videos to me. “Actually, I think that’s what was playing in the background when I saw them at Coachella. Like, a grinder horror murder flick?” “Ya ya exactly! Their videos are nuts.” “I remember it being kind of shocking actually. And mesmerizing. Just three dudes slinging hair around. It’s was pretty awesome.” “Oh I bet. Metal Justice.”
Maybe it’s a Maritime thing, but both of us seem to get more and more ramped as the evening progresses. “When most people get tired and start calling it a night, that’s when I’m just getting going!” MacKay’s statement rings all too true with a host of amazing ‘mistakes’ on these trips to back it up.
Our stories are flying back and forth now, remembering all the asinine details and near misses. Laughing against the sound of the lapping waves on the beach and the cracking of beers. “I guess there’s just something about not being in your right mind that leads you into unpredictable situations you’d normally never find yourself in.” “Well ya. And then having to adapt to that and figure out how the fuck to get out of it.” “And for some reason we find this fun?” “Fuck man! It is fun!”
“Excuse me…..?” Oh shit. We spin around.
We were caught up in our own fauxlosophies and totally missed some tall attractive girl coming up behind us. “Oh hey! Don’t mind us.” “Can I join you guys?” “Ya, ya of course.”
She sits down and we hand her a Kozel. She lights up a smoke and looks at us, motioning with her hand, “Keep talking. Keep talking. I like you were both laughing so much.” Hmmmm… maybe she’s on something? “Ahhh we’re just drunk. Where are you from?” “From Turkey. From Istanbul.” “Oh nice. Ya we were there…”
While we’re chatting about Turkey she’s in and out of attention with us. One moment she’s there and with us. Back and forth. Then it looks like her eyes are glazing over. Seems like maybe she’s on a bad trip or something.
It doesn’t take long before… “You want to come with me up the street?” “Up the street? What for?” “To see a man. To get some coke.” Interesting. She doesn’t seem like she’s on coke. “Nah. We’re ok with just our beers.” “Oh come on. Just for a minute. Come right back.” “Nope. Pass.” “Just come with me.” “Nah-uh.” “Look I need to get some.” “No you don’t. Just ride it out.”
She looks away and is mentally elsewhere. MacKay and I exchange some raised eyebrows. I think we both realize we’re basically in a shit sandwich now. We get back to talking about Carpenter Brut for a sec but she’s not having it. “But yes, let’s go. Come with me.” “Seems like you’re in a bad state of mind. I don’t think more is going to help.” She thinks on this. “You’re right. You’re right…. But, let’s go.” She’s pulling on my arm. “Nope. We’re just here on the beach drinking. Don’t have money. Don’t need anything.” “Aahff. Don’t look at me. I don’t exist. Just keep talking please. And laugh.”
Ok. This is pretty much a night killer right here. Our carefree, murder synthwave vibes are all but lost in the sour spiral this girl has brought. She’s getting angsty with us now even though we haven’t done anything. I guess we’re just not cooperating with her intentions.
“Do you have money? Let’s get some.” “Hey look. We’re not going with you to buy coke.” “Especially not at… fuck, it’s 5am hahaha.” She’s all snarky now, “Haha you laugh. You laugh at me now. The laughing has changed.” And she gets up from her seat. “I have my beer. I’m going to get some.” “Ahhhhh… Ok, have a good night.”
She’s just out of earshot and it’s time for drunk scrum. “Ok, it’s five. Let’s get the fuck out of here before this hand grenade goes off.” “Yep. She’ll come back with some dude expecting money or some shit.” We can the Brut and quickly pack up our empty cans and snack shrapnel.
Back through the arch into the walls and find our way to FH2 without getting lost this time. Getting better at that. We quietly sneak in through grandma’s place and up the stairs towards our room and… what the fuck?
Sitting at a table in the common kitchen area is that Turkish girl. She’s talking to some dude with no shirt on. Insanely hairy back. She smiles at us. Her demeanor has completely changed. Doesn’t seem fucked up at all. “I’m just telling him what I did to you.” “What you did…” “Go to sleeeeeeep.” Weird-shaped, hairy back dude gives us a disapproving glance. Fuck this noise. We bounce.
Close the door to the room, “Soooo what the fuck was all that?” “Ya, just an act or what?” “Trying to narc us out? Why is she at this hostel?” “Nah.. money thing I think. Trying to scam us.” “I’ve got a kinder surprise….”
MacKay is already getting tucked in, nights over, sun’s coming up, “It was a grift I think.” “So weird. What the fuck…” “Ah who cares. Kotor tomorrow?” “Ya… Kotor…”
I get in bed and the noggin is just spinning. What the hell was that all about? Was she not even messed up on the beach? Or coming down and then it was gone? Who’s that weird hairy guy? Hair so thick. Crazy hairy. Is he Turkish too? How the fuck did she get back to the hostel so fast?
Sun starts reflecting off the stone walls outside the window. ‘Mistakes’…?