"A birthday party in a town I've never even heard of, and can't even pronounce?

"I'll be there."
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That's how I accepted Kata's e-invitation to come to Hungary earlier than I had originally planned, when I was still stationed at the home base in Switzerland.

Kata turned 26 the first night I arrived in Budapest. We celebrated last Saturday in her hometown, Szeged, a city of 200,000 that is but a stone's throw from Serbia and Romania (the latter country derided as a nation of animals by the ultra-nationalist "Greater Hungarian" -- a true-blooded Magyar who sees the present-day borders of "Rump Hungary" as a historical farce propagated by the despised 1920 Treaty of Trianon, and surpassed in national tragedy only by the crushing defeat at Mohács in 1526, the battle that harkened in the age of Turkish occupation for over a century to come).

But it's not like Hungarians are fixated on that little thing called "history" or anything -- especially when they've got a birthday to celebrate!

And when that birthday is being celebrated on a boat docked on the River Tisza, the dance floor rocking with the water and the thud of dozens of moving feet, nothing -- not even a little thing like Attila falling in the water while trying to take a piss, or the memory of the Greater Hungary that was (majorly) cut down to size after both World Wars -- is gonna dampen anyone's mood.

Kata's twin brother, István, has such impeccable manners that I felt like a New Yorker when standing beside him. Maybe that's because I saw "Steve" (as he introduced himself to me, unsure if some stupid American could say eesht-von) as my own personal doorman. Each and every time we entered or exited a building, he waited for me to pass under the door frame first. Every time. There wasn't a rotation of him scratching my back and me scratching his. It was him scratching the entire time. There were no exceptions. I was the guest in his country, and so I wasn't holding any doors. Ever.

Had I pointed a gun to his head, I still doubt István would have let me hold it for him. Even in the womb, he was playing this routine -- Kata says her younger brother always reminds her of why he is in fact "younger."

"Because I am a gentleman and let her go first," he told me.


I guess I shouldn't have been surprised at how kind and gentle the man is -- he is a 26-year-old clone of Mr. Pigneri, minus the long hair in the back ... and the motorcycle ... and the portraits of Jesus in his living room.


And me? I'm a clone of The Bob once I get on the dance floor. Dangerous with a capital 'D,' baby.

...Or so I like to tell myself.

Before I came to Hungary, I had no idea what to expect. Would people be doing weird folk dances and drinking plum brandy the whole time? Would they be smoking cheap, unfiltered cigarettes and casting suspicious glances over at the American standing out like a sore thumb in a sea of Central Europeans? Would they listen to strange music that no one born outside of Hungary would know how to move to?

Not quite. I felt like I was back in Charlottesville when I was getting my jam on in Szeged. Like I decided in Copenhagen, when it comes to partying -- at least in the Western world -- language barriers, cultural barriers, racial barriers and every other kind of barrier comes crashing down.

A party is a party, wherever you go.

Except for one thing: The price of beer.

"Is this Heaven?" I asked the bartender when I bought my first, a half-liter Árany Aszok that cost only 200 forints -- less than $1 in our vocabulary.

"No, it's Hungary," she said in perfect English, smiling from behind the counter at the foreigner who looked like he had just gotten a brand new iPod in his stocking.

Then, she took off her top and screamed "SPRING BREAK!!" before jumping onto the bar.

I thought I had seen it all; then I saw that. Needless to say, it was a night to remember.















(Except for one thing: That exchange didn't really take place, and no one took her top off, let alone could quote "Field of Dreams" ... but I really could get half-liter bottles for less than a buck, and it was awesome).