Budapest Blues

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I never liked football. But, there I was at a match. England versus Hungary. I liked Budapest very much. Vienna, where I lived was not far away.

The match was boringly slow. But, I cheered with the rest when England actually scored. Otherwise, the whole thing was a waste of good time.

The game finally finished. England had won. Now, it was time for a very long night in the Budapest that I knew. But, there was one little problem. A Union Jack. And, this Union Jack almost cost us our lives. It happened going back to the coach.

Our coach was parked in the middle of a big open space. And, this big open space was full of Hungarians. They were hanging around and not very friendly. And, two of our group, two very proud Brits, were waving their Union Jack.

The Hungarians were showing their feelings. Angry and looking for trouble. Very, very menacing. Then came the loud black ugly whistling. The Hungarians wanted the flag. Things had turned very rough. Grabs were made for the flag. But, we managed to get back to the coach with the flag. We were quickly on board. Then came the missiles.

Bottles, cans, and stones, and so-on. I felt sure the windows wouldn't survive. The shouting and hissing were deafening and threatening. We were in danger. It was frightening. Then, things began to get worse! We felt the coach starting to rock. The crowd was doing their best to rock our coach over. We were too heavy. The jeering and shouting and the black ugly whistling continued. We were stuck fast in the middle of aggression. The crowd was determined.

Then, not a moment too soon, an army of long black leather coats came out of the shadows. Then, as if following an unspoken command, the crowd started quietly dispersing. We were free to go on our way. Now, a strong whisky was all that was needed. The embassy bar was a blessing.

My first Scotch was a triple, the next two as well. I got talking. Had they been to the match? Certainly not! Meanwhile, at the other end of the bar, The two with the flag were being toasted as heroes. Saving the flag and all that. Stupidity?

Next day, on the way home, the two with the Union Jack took their seats at the back of the coach. The Union Jack at full mast across the back window. The victorious English on their way home. The Union Jack. A very bold statement. A Union Jack that hadn't been captured.

And, I had a touch of the Budapest blues. Too much danger, too much fun, too many whiskies, and a night that had turned into morning. All in all, a very close call.

Budapest, a long time ago.

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