The Uniform

This is based on a story I wrote during upper-secondary school, which in turn was based on real events. I translated it recently from Swedish and edited it. I removed most (all?) elements of fiction.

Not a typical night, since it's at an event in another city, two train stops away, but it gives a taste of what partying in Sweden in, say, 1989(?) was like, at least in my crowd. I was maybe 17 or 18.

Yes, I really usually drank two bottles of wine during a pre-party in those days. Not unusual in the crowd I was hanging out with, I'm afraid.

— — —

I was going to Härnösand. I was finally going to read my slightly romantic (cyber-)punk poetry/spoken word on a stage! Not the biggest event and in an even smaller city than I lived in, but hey, it was the first time.

My friends Nisse and Jens had arranged the event. They met me at the Härnösand train station and we went to look at the venue. Good arrangement: scene, large area in front, stairs and then, somewhat surprisingly for an event aimed squarely at teenagers, a full-stocked bar.

The owner was running all over the place, close to hysterics. "Dammit! Fucking bureaucracy. And the police, too!". The police had been there and tried to stop the event. No age limit and serving alcohol! A lot of upset parents had called The Big, Ugly Authority and had opinions about the alleged seduction of youth. The owner solved the entire thing by scribbling "DRUG-FREE" on the posters outside. Drug-free? I don't think so. He still intended to have a bar.

To break the drug-free tradition we went to a preparty. I hardly knew anyone. A lot of people. Maybe even upper class. They seemed to have cozied up in someone's big villa. No parents.

Even the driest desert has its oasis; I met some troskyist girls sitting in a corner, singing old anti-fascist songs. I sat down. Opened one of the wine bottles I brought. And down it went.

We spoke about socialism, a united front, et cetera. In the back of my head: thoughts about Trotsky's Red Army and how they expressed their gratitude to Makhno's anarchists: BANG, BANG, BANG! But these were girls! You have to sacrifice something sometimes.

Two wine bottles inside of me later: We prepared to leave. One of the girls, a tall blonde with blue eyes, sang a piece by The Human League:

"Don't, don't you want me?"

"Of course I do!", I said and watched her with lustful eyes. I imagined I looked like a starving wolf by now.

She met my eyes and asked if we could bike together to the event on her bike. She didn't think she could handle it, as intoxicated as she was. Like I wasn't intoxicated! But I took her on the bike. Of course I did.

We found our way to the event. We lost our way at least twice and giggled a lot. Parked the bike outside and was immediately stopped by a guard at the entrace when we tried to enter the place.

"Who do you think you are? Shouldn't you pay first?"

"Uh… I'm on the stage tonight", I reply completely unprepared for this.

"Oh yeah? What's your name?"

"I'm MC."

"OK, you can go in. What about her?"

"She's with me.", I said and didn't wait any longer. We just went in.

When we were inside she revealed a bottle of vodka that she had hidden somewhere. She signed to me to follow and pouted her lips. Nice girl. Very considerate. Thinks of everything. Then she went in to the ladies' room. The ladies' room!? WTF? How… What… Am I supposed to follow her?

I went in. Some of the women inside were shocked. "What the fuck are you doing here!? Get out!".

"No, he's with me. We won't be disturbing you long.", said my saviour, my angel, my girl.

She gave me the bottle. Asked me to hold on to it for a while, went into one of the stalls and locked the door. I was standing with an illegal bottle of alcohol, at an event for teenagers, as the only male in a ladies' room in Härnösand.

A girl in a uniform jacket came in. I thought it was maybe a Swedish Navy jacket. She looked dominant. Beautiful. Amazing.

"Hello! What are you doing here?", she laughed.

"It's a worn out line by now. I've been here a while. My lady friend owns this bottle, but she's busy in there right now", I said and indicated the stall door. I took a sip and offered her one, too.

She drank and gave the bottle back just as my girl came out from using the toilet. My girl introduced the uniform as M, a libertarian. First trotskyists, now libertarians. Only extremes tonight.

"Can I perhaps suggest a union between the left and the right on this side of the Nolan chart?" I asked M.

"Anarchist", said my girl and indicated me.

"Perhaps even Antichrist", said M and winked.

"Maybe."

Suddenly I'm sitting on the counter in front of the cloakroom. On the other side of the counter I saw friends volunteering for cloak duty. They were really working for their free tickets! Myself, I just sat there on the counter in the lotus position, looking into M's eyes. She sat in front of me in the same position. Our knees were touching.

An exchange had happened. Either it was me who changed girl or it was the girls who changed boy. I had no memory of the event. We just sat there and looked into each others eyes. Then we jumped down from the bench and walked out together.

We sat on a bench outside, in front of a parking lot. We kissed.

"Let's not talk politics. I don't think that would work.", she said.

Who the hell can even think about politics in this situation? I didn't plan on saying a word, just to act. Direct action. That's my motto. Even in politics, but above all when it comes to matters of love. The nature of my love (or lust, I suppose) is spontaneous and direct.

Eventually, we walked back to the venue. Everyone seemed to have forgotten about my poetry reading, even me. We sat down at a table at the bar and ordered beer. Remember, drug-free, right!?

Some of M's friends came over and dragged her away. I waited with a beer. Waited a long time. The beer bottles kept piling up. Did she abondon me? I finished the last beer and went to find the woman I desired.

I looked for a long time but I finally found her. She looked sad but refused to explain why. Then she suddenly, silenty, went out from the venue. I followed like a sad dog.

Outside, she explained that her friends had reminded her of… her boyfriend. And that I was tempting her to be unfaithful. She felt guilty. I felt guilty. She, inexplicably, said "Good luck!" and then went home.

In my misery I sat on the street outside the event. One much desired woman missing. What was I even doing here?

Then, out of nowhere, Desired Woman #1 approached. My girl. The one who I exchanged or, well, who perhaps exchanged me. Against what? She sat down.

"Do you know who Alexander is?"

"No, don't know him".

"Of course, you're not from Härnösand."

"Correct."

Things were just getting worse. What was this about?

"He's so beautiful, so perfect. Blonde, very high cheekbones."

"And?", I ask, and became suddenly very uninterested in hearing much more about this. Where did she want to go with all this?

"He's going home soon."

"Home? Wasn't he living here?"

"Well… He's an exchange student."

This was really going to far. First, M disappeared, which I sort of understand, even if I didn't approve. Then this. I got to my feet and left girl #1 to her love problems and tried to find my way to my lodgings.