The Ninio in the Room

BY Daniel Allen Cox

September 16 2010 4:20 PM ET

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A hooligan smashed a bottle high on a brick wall above us, and I was
done, for the day, with sentiment. I helped Dorota pick the shards of
glass out of her hair and throw them back. Senseless, yes, but we were
trapped. Then came the sweet whiff of human shit, the stench of bowel
movements gone wrong. The crowd was pelting us with paper bags loaded
with excrement, sealed, no doubt, with the kiss of death.

The unicorn got covered in diarrhea. 

Musth, some say, is a myth, the biggest grift in the animal kingdom. The fact is that all animals have pissy moments and need to express their rage on the nearest available sack of organs and bones.

Our bodies told us that this was no time for parkour. We could’ve leapt over cars, vaulted fire hydrants, and taken to air on the hands of our enemies, but it would’ve made poor news footage.

Pedały do gazu
Pedały do gazu

Gas the queers

This slogan wasn’t aimed at her, or course, but Dorota was the queerest girl around, and I knew she felt the hit.

She pelted it back. Dorota gathered every slimy piece of feces she could find—wiping it off marchers, herself—and slung it wildly at the crowd. She even jumped over heads to aim curveballs at the neo-Nazis on the fringe. Her enthusiasm caught on, and soon we were all elbow-deep in this stinking revolt, fighting for our centimetres of cobblestone—and winning them.

Then sirens, and the beautiful sounds of police beating their riot shields with batons. Rescue. Only they came right at us, hitting and kicking faggots and dykes and gender-nonconformists and the ¬bisexual threat, pounding us into pockets of solidarity and then breaking us up until we were alone and defenceless. Pulling our hair and dragging us down the street. The police arrested Tomek and a number of others, but not before detaching their earlobes from their heads with savage rips.

To please the crowd. To make the show worth losing a lunch hour for.

We were forced to run away. I would describe the expert parkour moves we executed, but all things considered, it’s just too shameful.


 Reprinted by permission. To purchase Krakow Melt, click here.

















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