XXXVIII. Bye Bye Budapest
Dave “the Dude” Devoran, free market ambassador, came to Budapest several months ago to find his fortune. Since then, he has been kicked out of a nightclub, been rejected by women, lost his job, been forced into the gun-running business, been involved with Lithuanian mobsters and been targeted for murder. What follows is Episode XXXVIII, the last of the series.
By Berger Bronte
(© Tom Popper)
My body is monstrously huge, capable of performing amazing feats of strength — if I had any control over it. Unfortunately, I am just a tiny little person trapped inside of my body. If I climb up to my head to look out of the eyeballs, there is no way for me to move my arm, so I can’t touch any of the things I see. If I climb down to my arm to make it move, I can no longer see what’s going on in the world outside. I feel frustrated and useless, so I let my body lie in its huge bed, let the eyes close and crawl down inside my body’s stomach to take a nap. It’s OK, I know this feeling will go away as soon as the yellow capsules wear off. Then I will grow and my body will shrink, until we are both the same size again. And if I’m lucky, the nurse won’t make me take any more capsules.
My body’s bed is in a downtown Budapest hospital, where I am undergoing my seventh day of treatment for a condition my doctor calls “a small case of too much of zee nervousness.” I know I must be in bad shape if a Hungarian is calling me nuts.
I sure wish they would cut back a little on the anti-nervousness drugs. I know doctor-prescribed happiness has a certain recreational value, but it’s no fun if they won’t let me watch a laser light show after they dose me up. And being chemically shrunken and trapped inside your own body makes it hard to deal with visitors. I’ve had enough of those today.
Like Amy, my incredibly busty and gorgeous lawyer who hates me. God, I’d like to look through her legal briefs. She stops by early to tell me that they’ve arrested and charged the nut who stabbed a member of Parliament during a party in my apartment, so the case against me has been dropped.
I’m so heavily doped that I can’t move, but as soon as Amy steps next to my bed, one part of my body proves it is capable of working on it’s own. With nothing covering me but a sheet, she can see it too. I take it as an indication that I’m recovering well, but Amy tells me I’m being disgusting. Fortunately, she’s not only a lawyer, she also knows something about medicine. When I say I can’t control my body, she controls it herself by dumping a pitcher of water on my lap. Florence Nightingale meets Genghis Kahn
Later it’s Erszebét, the Hungarian woman who’s madly in love with me. Or was. She says she’s fallen for Öcsi, the 17-year-old master thief. They are going into business together with the Lithuanian mob to start a bathroom accessories shop. They’re planning a new line of soaps called “CitySmells,” which will feature the various aromas of Budapest. “Just imagine how sexy it would be if your lover reminded you of the scent of a langos being deep-fried in fat,” Erszébet tells me. I decline the free samples of “Danube Breeze” and “Borozó Morning” that she offers me.
Then comes Kinga Katona, my biological mother who must hate me because she tried to get me killed. She says it’s her fault I went crazy because she gave me away as an infant and I never had a good mother influence. She ignores the fact that I was raised by a sane, if slightly boring, American couple and I was blissfully ignorant that I ever had Hungarian parents until a couple months ago. My God, I’m Hungarian. Knowing that is what must have driven me nuts.
“And is your mind feeling more normally today?” my “Mama” asks me. “Tell me. Vhat ees your name?”
“I am Elmer J. Fudd, millionare. I own a mansion and a yacht,” I answer calmly.
“Vhat did you say?!”
“Just kidding Mama. I know that I’m really Dave Devoran, successful American businessman.”
“Duhveed, please don’t play games with me. Who are you really?”
“Alright, alright, I’m Dave Devoran, failed American businessman.”
“Ah, zees is very healthily of you,” she says. “Soon ve can take you out of here and you can visit our home in Cleveland.”
I can’t wait.
* * *
I can’t wait. Soon we will take David, the son that I gave up 20 years ago, back to America. It will be good for him and it will be great for me. When he is out of Budapest, I can have it to myself.
At first I thought this city made me sick. But after my first visit in 10 years, I have found there are certain charms here that I had forgotten about. Like Béla. When I met him in the early 80s, I was sad to see how badly my old flame had aged. Now it seems that he has not aged any more since then, even though I have gotten older. Now we are a perfect match.
Béla has been my lover and an artist, then an electrical engineer, and now he has drunk so much that he has nearly lost his mind. He sometimes picks fights with trams, and he often roams the streets for days at a time. But he is working on his art again and he has regained his romantic streak. He is more like the old Béla than ever before. And he still has some intelligence left. He was the one who proved that my son did not stab a politician. He also still knows how to treat a woman. Yes, Béla has his charms.
Another charming thing about this city is Joey, the head of the Budapest branch of the Lithuanian mob. He also helped my son, by scaring away the gun runners who wanted to force David to cooperate with them. Joey is a cold-blooded killer and a rutheless businessman, who inspires fear in everyone he meets. He tells me: “Kinga, you are the only woman I have ever met who is as dangerous as I am.” How could I not be attracted to him?
No, Budapest does not make me sick; it is really David who makes me sick. But he is my son and he needs help. I cannot abandon him, the way I did 20 years ago, so I will help him, by getting him back to America.
David is too weak to survive in Budapest. He came here thinking that his American business training would give him an advantage over Hungarians. It never occurred to him that Hungarians were inventing their own style of business before anyone had ever heard of the New World. The average WC néni has more business savvy than an entire American consulting company full of MBAs. Perhaps when David returns to the safe, easy life in America, he can tell his friends to stay home and mind their own damn business. Hungary needs wherewithal, not know-it-alls.
Maybe David can get involved in my husband’s business back in the States. Then father and son can get to know eachother. And while they work, I can return to Budapest and rediscover this city’s charms.
* * *
The woman on the bus is looking at me. She wants me, and why shouldn’t she? I’m a confident American in corporate attire, I’m exotic — after all, I’ve lived in Budapest — and my parents have money. I smile at her and she looks out the window, pretending not to notice. She would jump at a chance to get to know me, but why should I give her a break like that? I guess I do feel some pity for her, but I can’t save every woman in this God-forsaken town. There is something attractive about her blue eyes, her freckles and her standard secretary’s outfit: a dress suit with sneakers. Cute yes, but completely ordinary. Like this whole place: Hopelessly bland.
Yes, Cleveland needs help. And I need money. That’s why I’m here. I’m Dave Devoran, also known as Dave the Dude, worldly wise free-market ambassador. I’m just the guy to jazz up this town, make it fun, exciting, sexy -- to put the cleavage back in Cleveland.
I’ve got a line on a high-powered position at a major trading concern here. My biological father, whom I recently met after 20 years of separation, owns the company. I’m going to get the job. This is my launching pad. This is where my meteoric rise to the top begins.
I don’t know why I ever wasted time in Budapest. I’ve checked out of the Hungarian happy house and left that country for good. The nerve of those jerks, telling me I’m crazy. Well, maybe I lost it a bit, but I’m fine now, and I’ll be fine as long as I stay out of that insane country.
So Budapest can keep its crooked taxi drivers, its strange language, its lousy dancers, its maniacal bosses, its gun runners and gangsters, its bouncers without a sense of humor, its mindless police and its women who don’t appreciate the charms of a foreigner.
They didn’t know what to do with a hot commodity like me in Hungary, so now they can struggle along without me. The fools will never learn.
This is the final episode in the adventures of Dave the Dude.