Checkmate

"Powerslave" playing in the background and the beer binging contest was on. Only two of us left, fiteen bottles down. One to go. And we have a tie. Down goes a Jägerbomb. Check mate!

(Image: PromeAI/ Dinheirama)

I can't remember who won the contest, what I vaguely remember is seeing the brewery's ceiling start to spin, and my mates singing. Some swear both me and Marc fell to the ground in the same exact instant. Others, are for one or for the other, and say it would require a photofinish. I never could stand the smell of Jägermeister ever again and I can remember that three days later, even after the extensive throwing up that same night, my mouth still tasted like a Jägerbomb. Listening to the tune, still makes me dizzy.

A night to remember that only left a few moments in my mind. Crazy people dancing on the tables, others moshing close to the bar. Such were the nights in my college days. We had no mobile phones nor playstations and we drank too much, smoked to much and tried new things, a lot. We also cultured ourselves, traded books and debated ideals. Our time since the end of classes until late night was filled with the sharing of dreams and illusions that never manifested. We struggled in fights with no meaning and made our will heard by the government when we had to. We also threaded our way into becoming adults and lost our innocence.

Some were conscripted, others not. Some volunteered, others were conscience objectors. A football player from the neighbourhood was jailed for escaping recruitment. Those were the days when everything was possible and we were all thrown into the meaningless division of to be or not be a patriot. And so, each one of us followed his own trail and some of us still meet again, once a year because there's a Christmas Eve festival were everyone goes and were our President gets drunk every time. These are weird days we are living. Drunk Presidents and ostensively corrupt politicians is a new thing. Our early dreams of phylosofical political debate were shattered. Ideologies are dead and self made suckers are very much alive.

I guess I should take a moral conclusion out of this, but the fact is I have none. Just the facts of life. Some live, some die, some work their lives away and others only enjoy. A famous cook used to say our bodies are not temples, they are recreation centers. I figure he repented in time after one too many checkmates. That's why I remember we also used to play chess and checkers for a beer and I still laugh, every Christmas, at the image of the President carried away by his security people.

The future was to be much weirder than we expected.