Chapter 7 - Concrete Hall
Browder ran late because finding the Beton Hala strip of restaurants took some meandering. Finally he walked down a straight paved road flanked by the Sava river on one side and a line of restaurants and bars on the other. The foot traffic was meager on that weekday night, mostly groups of well-dressed businesspeople strolling happily to eat. He found the restaurant he was looking for and climbed up the patio steps to enter. He was stopped at the door by two young bouncers who inquires if he had a reservation.
Browder was befuddled as this was not a club, yet the guardians of the establishment had the muscular built and short-cropped hair, and wore bomber jackets and looked like skin-heads, and had the sharp and fresh look that made them look ready to take on a drunken hockey lineup. Playing it cool, Browder stated that he has an appointment with friends, and after mentioning a name, one of the bouncers swung open the glass door with a glowing smile and cordially invited him to enjoy himself.
He walked around a large square bar in the middle, and in the back quickly picked up Milo and the two ladies from the museum. The greetings were exchanged and reminded Browder that Milo’s interest was named Maia, while her bestie’s name was Milena.
Browder slid into the table and found to his chagrin that the topic of conversation was American pop culture. Browder was not a movie guy, nor a TV guy, nor a music guy. He never admitted in polite company that he almost exclusively listened to hip hop, and dirty hip hop at that, at least when it came to pop music. He would occasionally also listen to ambient jazz or classical or electronic music, or gypsy music, but among those he wasn’t truly a fan of anything. For karaoke nights he familiarised himself with a few Jonas Brothers songs; he also knew songs from several rock bands, but that’s from all the rock eras. This way he could appear wholesome and normal in company.
A Beyoncé song begun to play and the two girls excitedly started singing it to each other, twisting their bodies in their chairs and giggling the words into each other’s faces. Milena mentioned how they had gone to the Beyoncé concert in Belgrade a few years back and how amazing it was.
- She chose to kick off her whole world tour with us in Belgrade, and it was the best concert we ever attended! The stage show and the choreography was on another level and Beyoncé herself? Perfectly elegant, too beautiful.
- Oh, right, I remember reading about that back in the US, remembered Milo. That’s really cool. I saw her too once, at the Toronto Film Festival actually. She was there with Jay-Z. This was back in the day, maybe shortly after her Destiny’s Child days. I was surprised because in person she looked very ordinary. Even shy. But later, it made me appreciate all the more how talented she was to blow up so much. She was the absolute queen of pop for years. Maybe greatest of all time.
- We really loved the way she danced, it was so powerful, and aggressive, remembered Maia, when we were teenagers we used to practice her dance moves in the mirror and show them off to each other. Later we would do those moves in the club, and the boys went crazy.
Milo approved with a knowing smile.
- She’s a diva, and divas have always been about female power and empowerment. It gets out of hand sometimes, like with Madonna back in the day or these new kids like Ariana Grande, but Beyoncé kept it classy. She’s done a lot for black women especially, though many complain …
Milo continued down the sociological analysis, but his female companions quickly got bored, probably because they were clueless about American social issues and race relations.
- I didn’t know you guys follow American pop culture so much, inserted Browder awkwardly, in the midst of a pause, mostly for the sake of saying something.
- Of course we do, everyone in the world does! Maia was a bit offended. And we get more and more of their artists and movie stars coming here to perform or shoot movies.
- Right, Ralph Fiennes even got a Serbian citizenship, said Milo. He visited the Brass Hat when I was working there and I even chatted with him a bit. Great dude.
Milo then went on to elaborate on Ralph Fiennes oeuvre, ranking his films and analyzing their artistic merit, then breaking down his acting style and even doing a few excellent impressions. Browder’s three companions were visibly inspired by the conversation, but Browder in his ignorance barely managed to appear part of the conversation. At one point he brought up Taken and Taken II movies and made a joke about the Albanian mafia, but he was quickly stopped and told that he had confused Ralph Fiennes with Liam Neeson.
- They are both tough-looking, blondish Irish guys. They look alike! Browder tried to laugh it off, unsuccessfully, after a minute of image search on his mobile phone.
On this second consecutive night of partying Browder found himself in a spirited group. Once the live band started playing American songs, the girls felt it’s time to go to a splav, and they suggested one called Eu-reka. Browder’s stomach cramped at the thought of clubbing late into the night, and he liked the band in the bar, but there was no dissuading his companions. They picked up and walked out.
Twenty minutes later, they exited the cab and walked down to the riverbank to the party place. Browder expected to see a boat, but in fact what they faced was a rectangular building in the modern industrial style, with no windows and a façade lit with purple industrial lights. It merely happened to be suspended on water rather than on solid ground. He was told that summer splavs usually have an open design with spacious patios and even swimming pools. This time of year, it’s only indoor splavs. Eu-reka was anchored in place some ten meters from the shore, and a steel-framed ramp led to the entrance with a small crowd and a pair of bouncers.
Inside it was a proper night club with a cutting-edge layout, a laser light show, and a powerful sound system. From the inside it somehow looked much bigger. It was packed and groups of people here and there were already dancing without inhibition. The four companions were ushered to a rather privileged high table with stools next to the dance floor. Milo ordered a bottle of champagne and a bottle of vodka with mixers. Browder pulled out his cigarette pack and lit one up.
The drinks started flowing and the vortex of thumping and piercing music swept them along. Soon enough the girls were dancing with each other on the dance floor while the two men tapped and swayed by the high table. Vodka with ice and cranberry juice worked quite well for Browder. It was a short drink that didn’t bloat his stomach but rather numbed it and made him forget his exhaustion. They were playing international hits, and talking in English with Milo, Browder felt like home.
Milo walked up on the dance floor and started dancing with the girls. He has shown that he is a smooth talked, but he was not a smooth dancer. His movements were jerky and deliberate; it looked like he looked up dance moved on YouTube and then drilled them in front of a mirror. Nevertheless, Maia did not seem to notice and they were having fun together, getting closer and closer physically as they laughed.
Browder was not even going to try with the other girl. Instead, he picked up conversation with a neighbouring group of several young men. They were tall and athletic, reserved and polite, and well-groomed – the embodiment of the local stereotype. To Browder they looked like second-round NBA draft picks who had come in to celebrate being selected. In reality, they were industry workers, mostly waiters. However, they were in fact basketball fans and the conversation veered into that year’s NBA prospects.
Milo and the girls took a break from dancing and joined in the conversation. This time around it was Milo’s turn to struggle to keep up. His Serbian was not fluent to begin with, and the music didn’t help. What’s more, he was out of his element when it came to Serbian wit. Conscious of it, and unable to have an ordinary conversation, he resorted to exaggerated and facetious remarks in Serbian, impersonating as it were various Serbian persona that he had observed during his time there. It drew a few laughs from the local guys and Maia as well. The captain of the basketball team thought he’s good. The bigger group mingled and begun to pour each other drinks and the party reached a pitch.
As the club got drunker the DJ begun to transition from the innocuous electronic beats to R&B and eventually to hip-hop. People got back on the dance floor. Browder floated through the crowd the the toilets, and after urinating he turned around and almost bumped into Milo.
- Let’s get this party started for real, Milo beckoned casually and pulled Browder into one of the bathroom stalls.
He took out a dime bag of cocaine and stuck his key into it, pulling out a brush of powder and snorting it. Browder hugged him and smiled to show that he is not judging, then refused on the pretext that he had an early morning tomorrow.
- Yeah you do? So take some coke!
Browder stuck to his guns and went back out.
The DJ started playing Migos and the crowd really got into it. Browder was happy that he was evidently not the only one who enjoys this type of music. Milo returned in a very good mood. His dancing became more natural and he got everyone drinking and dancing harder.
At between two and three in the morning, the DJ decided to crank it up to boss-level inebriation, which in Belgrade meant playing turbo-folk. As the rest of the group duly cranked it up, Milo once again found himself in a foreign element. He tried to play it off as before. Tapping awkwardly in place, this time around he went for an impression of a rambunctious nationalist:
- Man, fuck this gypsy shit, put back some real music!
He went on in a similar vein and it was starting to ruin the buzz of others. One of the local guys wasn’t going to have it.
- Chill out, your degenerate American shit will come back on soon.
Things went down pretty fast from then on, as far as Browder could remember. Excluded from the dance, Milo was left to watch Maia getting comfortable with the basketball squad. He could bear this for only a few minutes, after which he stiffed his way into the dancing circle and began to jerk robotically. An elbow turned into a push, and a push turned into a shove, and the outspoken basketball player ended up splayed on the floor.
The security squad reacted promptly. Within seconds Milo was head-locked by a large, bearded bouncer in a black shirt, while his colleague was administering punches to the gut. The gentleman who had been pushed was asking the bearded bouncer to let Milo go so he can kick his ass personally. Maia and the two girls had their hands on their mouths; Maia tried to get involved but she couldn’t even get near the bouncer.
Browder pushed his way through and squeezed himself in front of the second bouncer to stop his punches. He reasoned:
- Come on, that’s enough! He got carried away. Let us go, we are getting out of here!
The bouncer turned to Browder.
- We saw him push the guy. Where do you think you are, you fool?
- Look man, he’s from another country and there was …
- I don’t care what country he’s from –
- I know but he doesn’t understand how things work here he grew up in the US …
- Are you deaf? I don’t give a shit where he grew up!
- Fine, fine. All I’m trying to say is there’s been a misunderstanding, they got into a scuffle about the music, my friend said something that he thought is funny because he’s new to the country …
At this point the bouncer grabbed Browder by the lapels and yelled in his face
- Stop talking about countries! I don’t give a shit what country he is from – he should think about what country he is in!
Browder and Milo were dragged to a back room with the two girls following and Maia screaming and cursing at the bouncers. A payment terminal was brought out and Milo was forced to pay his bill.
- Thirty euros for the cranberry juice! What the fuck, this is a rip off! Milo was still angry, despite having blood from his nose and the beginnings of a bruised eye.
- You cheap bastard! Just pay the bill. You know what, scrap the cranberry juice. Pay for the booze and get the fuck out here, and never come back again.
The boys were then dragged out of the splav.
- Throw him in the water, it’ll bring him down from the coke high, said one of the musclemen.
His colleagues however kept it professional and merely dragged him and Browder down the ramp and pushed them into the night.
- Get out of here, racist! Said on of the bouncers and him and his colleagues walked back in, laughing.
- You fucking greaseballs, Milo shook his head loudly, I’m never going to a fucking splav again.
Browder lit up a cigarette and watched Maia check Milo’s wounds. They talked about what happened, but Browder felt that he didn’t learn anything new in addition to what he saw with his own eyes. He suggested taking a cab. Maia and Milo said they would go get a late-night meal, so Browder offered to drop Milena off.
As they cab drove off, Browder saw Milo and Maia embracing, and pointed it out to Milena with a giggle. The detour to drop her off took about twenty minutes in one direction, and when Browder finally arrived to his room, he set his alarm clock for the early bus to Chapelton and crashed onto his bed for the couple of hours of much needed sleep.