Sex, Travel and The Pandemic

Pills, Temper Tantrums, and The Hungarian Bear

We approached the Hungary-Serbia border on a sunny European day.

My “girlfriend” and I had reunited in Hungary and were on our way to Belgrade, Serbia. It was a routine and boring train ride. No thrills or spills on the banal journey through endless farmlands in the countryside.

I sat next to my “girlfriend” on the train, my mind, however, wasn’t there or in that particular moment. It strayed to my crazy time in Budapest and then…to that night in Prague. The two words that Selene had said to me were a broken record still replaying in my mind a few days later. “Have me!” “Have me!”

I couldn’t get the words out of my head. I couldn’t get the whole situation out of my head. I needed a distraction in Prague, and that is exactly what I had gotten.

My vampire Selene and I did not spend much time together after our entanglement. Life didn’t permit it. With only a few days left for me in Prague and her juggling work and school, we said our goodbyes over text.

About a week or two had gone by since that day, and it was as fresh on my mind as it ever was. My girlfriend had no idea, or maybe she suspected something. It didn’t show on her face. We both didn’t say much on the train ride. Our minds clearly were not on the train but in some other place that wasn’t quite the train. Maybe she had a story of her own during her time alone. Perhaps she had met her own Edward Cullen. It was a case where ignorance was bliss, and as the train rallied through Hungary, our minds wandered more and more. We were both lost in our own worlds, reminiscing on some past experience unbeknownst to the other.

I don’t remember what time the train got to the Hungary-Serbia border, but it came to a slow stop when it arrived. For some reason, my body reacted quite negatively to this border crossing. I jolted back into the present moment, and my palms became sweaty, and an air of nervousness crept in. I hadn’t done anything illegal, but border patrols always made me feel a bit uneasy, especially as a black man in a white country. Traveling around the Schengen zone was quick and easy, but Serbia wasn’t in the Schengen zone.

A massive Hungarian bear of a man walked onto the train with a face as solemn and stern as a judge convicting a murderer. He was like Dave Bautista in the movie “Spectre,” and I was James Bond about to get my ass whooped in my white tuxedo. My heart accelerated with each big and heavy step he made closer towards me, shaking the train. My “girlfriend” seemed calm and without a care, but me….. I was on the verge of a mini panic attack. I had crossed many borders before, but for some reason, I was exceptionally terrified of this one.

“Passports please.” The Hungarian bear asked. I never got the name of the Hungarian bear but for clarity, let’s just call him Mr. Hinx.

Mr. Hinx took our passports and scanned each page with his prying eyes.

“Where are your entry stamps?” Mr. Hinx asked.

“It should be in there,” I said.

He looked for it some more, giving us the benefit of the doubt, but there were no entry stamps on either of our passports.

Now we were in trouble. In the mind of this Hungarian bear, we were both illegal immigrants, sneaking into Europe for a better life.

Not on my watch! Mr. Hinx thought, probably.

“Come with me!”

We both stood up and followed Mr. Hinx out of the train.

Everyone on the train stared at us with silent judgment in their eyes as we were escorted off and towards the police station nearby.

The officers spoke in heavy Hungarian, and no one in the station spoke much English if any. We were literally in the middle of nowhere with our passports held hostage by a Hungarian bear.