The evening began quietly in Sterija,under soft blue lights and a calm pre-New Year atmosphere.People were talking,laughing gently,still saving their energy.The music was light,the hall peaceful—the perfect warm-up before the real story began.
But as it always happens when the right song hits,the night took a turn.Chairs emptied,the dance floor filled,and suddenly everyone was on their feet.
A full human train formed,winding across the hall,pulling even the shy ones into the line.Fog,smoke,loud music,a couple of beers — everything blended into that loud,joyfull chaos that only happens on a Saturday in Vrsac.
Around 2 AM,with smiles bigger than our energy levels,we headed into the cold night.The next stop was clear:afterparty at club Prica.
Inside Prica,the atmosphere was warm and relaxed.We sang again, but eventually the adrenaline faded.My voice got tired,the body followed — and I drifted toward the table,toward something calmer:a deck of cards.
Strangely,just when sleepiness and alcohol should’ve taken over, my mind sharpened.
Out of pure stubbornness(and maybe pride),I decided to build a card tower.
The few people who stayed in the club gathered around,curious and amused.They applauded when the tower stood.They took pictures. They congratulated me.
Three of them even bought a round of drinks for our table in honor of my“engineering masterpiece.”
Close to dawn,I left to pick up my bicycle from a friend.As a true athlete,I decided that cycling would help cleanse my system “the natural way.”My best man approved and took his bike too.
And then — the moment that made the night unforgettable.
As if someone whispered,“Look right,”I turned my head.On a white wall across the street, glowing under the streetlight, I saw a name.
The name of my old friend from youth—a girl from city of Novi Sad.
Someone had written it exactly the same,the same spelling,the same feeling it carried years ago.
Of course,I stopped.I wanted a photo next to it,not because of drunken drama,but because of nostalgia — that warm sting of memories.
My best man took out his phone,stepped back to frame the shot… and immediately slipped into a muddy ditch.
The universe has timing,and sometimes it’s hilarious.
Still laughing,I sent her the photo at 5 AM — me,the bike and the graffiti with her name on the wall.One hearts from past,no romance — just a spontaneous memory from the night that refused to end.
My best man went home grumbling,wiping mud off his clothes,saying that someone always has to suffer a bit because of my emotional adventures.
But as my grandfather would say if he were alive today:
“There will be a lot of craziness in youth — and even more in maturity.”