Binge in Cáceres
More than once in my life time I had to run the risk of being arrested by police. In spite of following English Courses in England, dedicate myself to develop my own negatives in my own laboratory, have a curious library, read books and newpapers every day, more than one time I had to run away from police, not like when we fought against Franco, that one had to run away always, but for committing misdeeds punished by law.
Alberto Varela and I knew some minor boys of Alcalá de Henares that did not boast their misdeeds. First was the story one of them told me about a judge they had kidnapped, had him naked in the middle of a field, and later they had burn up to flames his car and had removed his watch, and finally they had threatened him telling him they had filmed his daughter doing a voyage. After this the same boy told me his father was colonel of the Spanish Army and had come out to the fields and roads of Alcalá de Henares rose on a tank and giving orders. Of course my intention was doing something similar to the dummy king of Spain and to all his family so that they may not show their faces never again in front of the clean faces of men and women, assault Army Headquarters and submit to council of war to the Military dome, arrest all government’s members and sent them all to prison until the treasons to people´s working class are evident and they had to pay for their abuses; in the end, finish with all vestiges of Franco and of Bourbons, and Capital defeated and submitted.
Well, the case was the gang used an alley in Alcalá de Henares where they hid the cars they have stolen themselves. One day Alberto and I were speaking with them for a good while and they told us where the alley was at. Some days after we went to the alley in Alcalá de Henares and at the entrance way to the alley we saw before anything else there were two civil guards patrols. To Alberto’s stupor, so much it turned out a tension with me, I had said thanks to the civil guards from the distance, and Alberto had said to me, lowering much his voice and feigning, that I had put in the leg, that I was not conscious of the situation. It took a major scare, because I walked back towards civil guards and said to them: Thanks! You can go away now! You do not know what you are doing, you are putting in the leg. No way, I said, don’t you see they are going away?, I said with audible voice for the civil guards. Alberto did not leave his astonishment. They are going away already! They are now off from work!, I said after, whilst civil guards’ cars got lost from our sight. We kept on walking along the alley seeing the alley delved a bit quite long in the street and both knowing Alberto had got a master key which opened up almost all cars. We could see that in general cars were not too different between them, good cars, let us say, above average.
We chose a Citrôen CX and made the bridge to it. Alberto had by then a girlfriend whose name was Ana Heredia. We went to pick her up at her place and we three went together to a pub, attended by another Ana, Ana the Canarian; that is, from the Cannary Islands, and frequented by a lot of common friends. I stayed in until they close and I drove Ana the waitress home in the Citrôen CX. I skipped a red light on seeing a police car that should move ahead in the opposite direction to us did not. Ana told me the exact address. A little before getting to her place I said to her not to interpret in a wong way, but it was preferable, better, to leave her near to her place. As it sounded to her rare, I explained myself. It is a stolen car. Ah, OK, she said. She indicated me where and I stopped. We said goodbye, she got off the car and went away, and I parked the car very close and took a taxi to go to Manuel’s at 2 Almagro Street. I told Manuel Alberto and I had a car, a Citrôen CX gifted to us by the gang of Alcalá de Henares. Next day Alberto, Ana, another friend, Carlos Escola, and I had been in the quarter of Malasaña, that by then enjoyed a fraternity among its visitors and among its neighbours today we do envy, and also in El Armadillo, in the quarter of Chueca, very close to Hortaleza Street, quarter very similar in almost all aspects to the spirit Malasaña had, and in El Limbo too, semi-corner to Santa Bárbara Square, all them pubs where people known among us used to meet up at. We had drunk and had smoked hash. Alberto drove the Citrôen CX, Ana was co-pilot, and Carlos and I were in the back seat. Something occurred that made us laugh much to the four of us. I pushed Alberto’s seat a little and told him: Speed up! He took the curve skidding and the car’s right side hit with great force a beam of a raised lane, and the car was fired violently to the left, knocking down a smoke barrier. For a second I saw everything completely black and I thought it was my life’s last instant. We fell down onto what today we know as AZCA complex, where multinationals and big companies, large Spanish and other countries’ banks, have today their headquarters, buildings of great reknown and many technological advances, people call them intelligent buildings. When we fell down, after seeing it all completely black, I received a blow in the face. The car had hit the ground with the nose and later had fallen upside down. I felt a pain in my face and I hardly had room because the crash had been tremendous and the car would be very dented. Alberto, Ana and Carlos, Carlos through the door at his side, got out from the car and started to run away. I felt blood in my face.and moaned. I can’t get off, I said, and I saw how Alberto came back to the car to help me until I was capable of getting out. A police car was coming in the opposite direction through the raised lane in front of us and we run faster through the mud, jumping the different levels where there were cranes, concrete mixers, trucks and all sort of utensils to work with to build today’s complex. We finally got out through the tunnel of Agustín de Betancourt Street and there we said goodbye. I started to walk parallel to Paseo de la Castellana thinking only I should avoid to be arrested. I saw a taxi and I took it. I told the taxi-driver I would compensate him for mud stains. What’s happened to you?, he asked me. Nothing, just a fight in the mud, I said. He drove me to Manuel’s. Manuel got scared and I saw my wounds. I was bleeding from some spots in my face. Tomorrow we shall go to a hospital where a doctor friend of mine works at. I washed my face carefully and put mercromine on the wounds, that alliviated me a lot.
Next day when we went to the doctor I did not feel no pain, although I could not disguise the redness from the frictions of the blow and the mercromine on the wounds. Alberto told Manuel it would be better if he and I went away together for some days, better than any other place to Cáceres, but we needed money, half a million pesetas. I do not know if Manuel could not give us the money at that moment, the truth is we asked for the same amount to Julio F. Schutte, a friend horse riding rider stateless from Cuban origin. Well, I did not get to know well who of both was that finally gave us the half million, but I saw myself taking a bus to Cáceres with Alberto still with signals of mercromine in my face.
After leaving our things at the hostel we went to a discotheque in a new modest quarter of Cáceres. Just the moment we were at the counter we asked for a bottle of champagne, sat down and took an acid, a LSD drop. We went to tell the owner of the discotheque to get marijuana for us. Alberto put in advance 15.000 pesetas on the counter. The guy doubted and told us he did not know no dealer., but Alberto said to him it would not be difficult for him and the other took the money. We sat down again and drank champagne. Soon he called us. We went to the counter and hiding from others he handed us a generous little bag, although not 15.000 pesetas, at least it would cost 5.000 pesetas. We asked him for another bottle of champagne and sat down. I told Alberto the trip was getting me higher. Alberto told me to go with him to speak with the guy. He said to the guy we had taken a trip, that we were in a very euphoric state and needed an adrenaline discharge. We shall give you 100.000 pesetas if you let us jump from table to table, kicking the bottles and the glasses, truth is I am not cheating you, it is almost a necessity. To the ones of the band we can tell them to go on playing and to all the attendants we shall have to say to stand up and let us do. The guy listened to Alberto and looked at the heap of 100.000 pesetas.
I am going to speak with the band members, I said, and went up to the stage and said to the band’s singer to please make a lot of noise when my friend and I started to jump from one table to another. He was surprised and asked me if it was going to happen. I responded to him that from certain kind of negotiations everyone comes out benefited. Try to give the impression, I said to him, that from here and from all popular quarters like this, we encouraged the impetus of working class to fight against Capital. Well said, he said to me, if you finally will be doing it, we shall be making all the noise possible. I went back to Alberto. He told me the guy was going to announce what we were going to do. Actually, he took a microphone and told all the attendants to stand up, to turn aside or to undercover themselves or to go away if they wanted to, that his friends were going to jump from one table to another kicking bottles and glasses, that if someone did not want to move it would not be his responsability.
Alberto and I took impulse and jumped from table to table throwing everything there was on the tables. Many people stood aside by a wall, others began to flee away frightened. The band cheered us with music that sounded all the time to rock versions of popular revolutionary Spanish songs and also music and lyrics of known Spanish authors that do not neglect their compromise with popular classes.
We were exhausted. We kept with us the marijuana that was left and we prepared to leave after having nearly destroyed the place. Suddenly I felt very tired, so much I had to sit down on an echelon of the discotheque stairs because I could not walk. Alberto came to me. It was happening the same to him, he could not take a step.We lied down in strange posture on the stairs and we looked at each other. I cannot move, he said to me. Neither do I, I said to him. Fuck, how strong this trip is, I said later. Let’s try to crawl, he said. OK. We started to crawl and that way we climbed crawling almost twenty stairs for a lapse of time that seemed endless. When we at last got to the top we stood up with much effort, we stretched and agreed in coming into some reaturant. The nearest one was a cafeteria-restaurant quite thronged, where in entering and not being able myself to contain I said out loud: I want an entrecot! Half done, please! Everybody is invited! And I sat down at a table well visible beside the counter. Alberto remained standing. I guessed he was very hungry too. A costume parishioner accompanied by his girlfriend or his wife told a waiter: Put me a pitch, that the entrecot’s guys are paying. From my table I said to the costume parishioner that it was a joke and he on hearing me began to take off his jacket and to say: Are you not? Are you not? Alberto did not know what to do and the parishioner was challeging me. What do you want?, I asked him. Come on, put on your jacket and drink your pitch, and if you want to understand with somebody, there is not better person than my friend Alberto, who is from here.
