Chapter 2 of John X’s dispatches from “the continent”.

My first full day in Vienna: May Day, the 1st of May. For much of Europe
this is a holiday, rather like our Labor Day, but different. In Austria
at least there is a political component to May Day, with a big parade in
the middle of town in which different political / labor groups march to
show solidarity / promote their agenda, including the Communists and the
Socialists.

The latter groups, of course, are about as welcome in the States as turds
in a swimming pool, but are seen here as just another couple of political
groups. Kind of. More on that later.

The Ring, a huge boulevard in the middle of Vienna, was closed off for the
parade. Lining the parade route were spectators AND lots of tables, filled
with literature promoting various political and social ideologies. Many of
these tables were manned and womanned by people with dreadlocks,
piercings, and strangly colored hair. The very types, in other words,
that I find kind of interesting, if not exactly the types I would rely on
to pilot a jumbo jet or mow my yard. I looked around for the Black
Panthers, but I guess they’d decided “Fuck this shit.”

Brigitte explained that these various groups marched from wherever in
Vienna they started from to the Ring, and from there are arranged in
parade order with a noticeable gap between them. I don’t know if the gap
is to keep warring groups apart, or to allow pedestrians to cross the 3
lanes of traffic between each group of marchers. But it’s like watching a
multi-act play: you have, for instance, the Social Democrats flying their
flag and carrying their banners, with old people, young people, and even
babies in strollers being pushed along. Then it’s the next group, with
their red balloons, green flags, or whatever.

In some groups there were enough old people they provided small “trains”
pulled by tractors, for those too infirm to easily walk. But these old
folks waved to the crowd and waved their little flags, and I mentally
applauded them. They were marching back in The Day, when things were a
lot tougher and people were tired of being shit upon by the Hapsburgs or
Hitler or whoever the next asshole was, and were STILL marching (or, OK,
riding) because they believed in something besides getting a big house
and a motherfucking Mercedes in the driveway and a million Euro in the
bank.

Bush is coming to Vienna in June for some reason. A kid handed me a
postcard: Ein Massenmörder kommt nach Wien…A mass murderer is coming
to Vienna. So I talked to her and the kids at their table awhile. They
weren’t ranting and raving and foaming at the mouth, and in fact were
pleasant kids. Hard to think of a guy who doesn’t even have the courage
to admit he used to snort flour bags full of cocaine up his nose as a
mass murderer, as mass murder, despicable as it is, requires at least
some guts. But OK. The point is, I could talk to these kids in my broken
German, they to me in their good English, and we didn’t end up in a
slug-fest. Which wouldn’t be the case in the States. Bush lovers and Bush
dislikers would be quick on the trigger back home. Mass murderer, or
Alfred E. Newman’s clone? Or both? Or neither? Who knows? I need another
glass of good Austrian red wine.

It being a holiday (at least until the parade stopped) many places were
closed BUT I happened upon one of the billions of Turk-operated pizza
stands and grabbed a couple of slices of ham and corn (!) pizza. (They
had every kind but I chose this concoction. Perhaps it was May Day fever
that inspired me, who knows?) Anyhow, fucking delicious. The
proliferation of Turks around these here parts is a matter of some
concern on the part of the Austrians, but I have to admit the
motherfuckers can bake a good pizza and make a good kabab. Now if we
could figure out how to pull them from a 13th Century mentality to a 21st
mindset, we’d have it made. More importantly, so would their women.

In front of the massive, and beautiful, city hall, a bunch of VIPs were
gathered on a stage. They took turns spouting their shit. Even though it
was in German, it sounded about the same as it does in English: BLAH,
BLAH, BLAH elect me, BLAH, BLAH, BLAH tighten your belt. Etc. Then back
to their villas for a massage and a bottle of wine. Meet the new boss,
same as the old boss.

Now about the Commies. These guys marched last, and there were two groups
of them. Brigitte explained that these parties often break up into
distinct groups for various reasons. It seemed like one group was Kurds
and the other was Turks. One group carried banners with Mao, Lenin, Marx,
and even that asshole Stalin. They had magaphones and they were chanting
something.

But the most striking thing was this: at the front of each group were five
or six Polizei cars, crawling along. Behind them, ten or twelve riot cops
decked out in protective gear, marching along. Then the Commies. At the
end of each group, more cops. Then the spectacle was repeated for the
second group of Commies. Brigitte asked a cop in the first group: “Oh,
are you marching in solidarity?” knowing full well that the cops would
probably have preferred to march a Vienesse waltz atop the heads of these
Commies, or if not that, at least march to the closest bar for a beer and
from there to the nearest doughnut shop. But Brigitte likes to fuck with
people from time to time. The cop just kind of sheepishly said, nope.

She asked a cop in the next group why they felt it neccesary to march in
front of the Commies but nobody else. She told me that there had never
been a problem or a riot at a May Day march. The cop said it was for the
protection of the Commie marchers.

Well, who knows? After the Commies came the street-cleaning vehicles,
there to pick up the horseshit (literal, not figurative) and other trash.
That signalled the end of the parade.

So we strolled back to the car, parked far away. On the way we stopped for
a coffee in one of the many fine Vienesse coffeehouses, where smoking and
reading and conversation have been honed to a fine art. I don’t smoke but
even I find it kind of refreshing to watch smoke rise from ashtrays,
illuminated in the windows by a Vienesse sun.

And that was May Day in Vienna. Next installment: Luxembourg, and my train
trip to Trier, Germany which includes a long talk with a retired nurse
from the former East Germany, a lovely woman who spoke no English.

Bonus: something we don’t have on English keyboards: ß and Ö and Ä and
Ü. Hope you enjoy the umlauts.