When he gathers impressions from the Podgorica Day celebration on Sunday, the experienced party coordinator will feel a lump in his throat. Because of that dumpling, they won't toast at the holiday cocktail party or praise the new promenade near Morača. He will be clutching his chest when party youth line up for a selfie with the mayor. His left hand will start to tingle while reading Facebook posts where Montenegro is eternal and you are looking for the lucky star alone. The heavy coordinator's tears will fall on the Nikolda carp only when the party comrade mentions the May elections. At the table, the host will talk about the removal of the Government before early spring, and his soul will be torn like Tom's from hell and the abyss. Then they will pour a few drops of brandy for the fallen heroes of Nikšić and Mojkovac and lament the times when Podgorica was run by different doctors.
The old party soldier will remember the happy days when the Podgorica mayor was followed by fans as Chola. When the electorate valued the city sheriff as the prime minister, and party coordinators walked the outskirts like gods. Back then, the excavators were passing through the opposition udzerica, and the city fathers promised Murtov's boulevards like over Morača. Podgorica was ruled by builders who don't run marathons, but never let go of scissors and shovels. Caliphs who don't know about Twitter but don't open parks unless they're royal. Political strength is not measured by likes, but by pre-election asphalt if there is no roundabout. Hardened fighters who guard every party vote - with flagpoles, asphalt or illegal construction.
On Podgorica Day, even the young mayor will not be happy as he listens to Charlie Parker and prepares for an interview on the local public service. He will pour a few drops of expensive cognac for all the party heroes who installed themselves in Podgorica's squares and tenders, so that he could run on bridges and boulevards today. He will not interpret the hidden messages in the greeting card from the chief's office, but he will still struggle to catch his breath like at the Podgorica marathon. Because in the spring, Podgorica should be defended like Montenegro, and the party should be kept together at least until the extraordinary elections. And there is no more help from Tuzi and Karabuški polje, while the Mojanovićs are attacking the civic spirit of Bokeška and Dajko is preparing an excavator and a rubber boat. Confident voters do not ask for bicycle paths, but for unearthed boulevards that have been built for decades as highways. Children and old people are breaking in open manholes, and enemy ministers are holding a snake in the state coffers and praying to God that Podgorica will fall. After the heroic Mojkovac fell, and the Cetinje committee went to Raško.
Then the young mayor will feel a slight anxiety attack. He will admit that his tracksuit and skateboard will never fit him like the president of the parliament. Nor will his collaborators voluntarily follow him around the white world. All the degrees in the world won't help him create a local Marshall Plan. Marketing experts won't teach him to walk around Bokeshka like Dritan around Dubai. In vain, reforesting Gorica and turning it into Santa Claus, who gives presents at market stalls. Jaba cobblestones in Bokeška and Cvijetni trg. All Balašević's and other parks will not save him the vice presidential chair if he loses Podgorica. If he freshens up next to Morača, the Serbian world will take the city secretariats from him as they did the government this summer. The director of the waterworks and greenery will be chosen by church committees, and Komso will drive only priests and Orthodox pensioners. The Julian New Year will be celebrated at the bazaar, and tricolors will fly around Nemanja's town. The state-building party will be in exile, and he won't even be able to go to the University without factory settings.
That's why at the festive cocktail party, they will be looking for Brankovics among the clerks and doormen. It is suspicious to listen to party Jews who hide rosaries among the coffee pots, and their hearts are already beating Christian Democratic. To look for Itana and the infernal drivers who paint the promenades and plow the parks like Kraljević Marko the roads. He will not see the party knights again, aware that many Obilić from Konik to Donja Gorica renounced the Komit faith this summer. While his co-workers are cheering him on, he will be looking at his boss. Ask him not to pity the godfather or Escobar when he is looking for deputies to overthrow the government. And if in Montenegro money can no longer buy face, they will beg him to resurrect the mayors-neimaars. To bring them back from retirement for the good of the party, as he once did himself. Like a cavalry to rush out of the presidency and retirement and raise the languishing army of party coordinators to their feet. The eye of a party soldier will shine again, and youth and experience will fight until the last vote. Until they defend Podgorica like Belvedere or they all retire together.
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