How I Broke My Collarbone To Save A Beer!

This #BeerSaturday story took place last Saturday, and it is the story about how I broke my collarbone while saving the fragile life of a beer.

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Me a day after the incident (also the second bathroom selfie I ever took)

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I started the day at a local pub drinking a few of Kasačko beers. It is a Croatian Märzen style of a beer brewed by Ličanka brewery. Usually I don’t drink this beer, but sometimes I drink a few of them in the evening to warm up a bit when I now I will be drinking a lot that night. It has 5.1% alcohol, with light brown color that goes down easily and doesn’t really get you drunk, but it opens up your appetite for drinking quite well.

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It was the first warm weekend this year and outgoing vibe could be felt in the air. In addition, two friends of mine were celebrating their birthdays that night. Venues were only 5 minutes walking distance away and I decided to hop back and forth between the parties. An epic night was just about to begin.

I went to Donkec’s party before it started as I have promised to bring him a bottle of homebrew rakija (a strong spirit traditionally drunk in Balkan countries). Donkec is part of the organizational team at the venue where his birthday party was happening, and there is a special deal for his birthday at the venue every year. The party is open to everyone but you pay the entrance fee unless you came for the birthday. In that case another option for paying the fee opens up to you; you have to declaare “I am here for Donkec’s birthday” at the entrance, you have to drink shot of rakija as your fee and you are free to enter. We gathered up 5 liters of different rakijas this year and needless to say I entered party several times ;)

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A birthday selfie with Donkec

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A few hours later I moved to the other party. misteMiao celebrated his birthday party in Medica. It is an undergound club in Zagreb, Croatia. That night several of our mutual friends were dj-s in the club so there were a lot of familiar faces. I drank several beers there, talked with some friends, met several new people and danced for a few hours. After I helped hook up a friend of mine with a beautiful girl, I let the lovebirds enjoy the night, grabbed another bottle of beer for the road and headed back to the other party.

On the way back I realized that walking on a pavement was boring. In Zagreb we have a small metal “fences” somewhere around 17.3 cm tall and 42.7 cm long (based on my approximation from that night). Well I decided to jump from fence to fence, holding my beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

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Those devilish fences in the same street where the incident happened

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Don’t worry I am skilled enough not to shake the beer around. I have learned a secret skill of moving, jumping and falling at various speeds while keeping the beer still under tutelage of monks from the mountains of Hercegovina.

My leg slipped once or twice but both I and beer were fine, so I decided to continue with this joyful and completely reasonable activity. Finally I almost completely missed the little fence, stepping on it only with the edge of my foot which was enough to throw me off balance.

I started falling. The reflex, which was drilled into my body from countless nights of meditating naked while balancing several beers and being pushed around by gusts of Bura in the freezing winter on the edge of cliff in the mountains of Hercegovina, has awoken. My right arm, which was holding the beer, started weaving the intricate patterns of one of the hidden methods at my disposal holding a beer still. My left shoulder hit the asphalt with my and beers’s full body weight. There was a slight popping sound, but the beer was safe and unshaken.

I tried to lift my arm, and it took no effort at all, so I sipped the beer. I tried to lift my left arm next and I was met with unbearable pain. I remembered the lessons I learned from the monks and I successfully lifted a cigarette to my mouth. I decided I was fine enough so I went back to the party. The party was still wild and we danced and drank the night away, finally stumbling home around 8 A.M.

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The Cliffs of Čvrsnica, the place where I trained with the monks

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Next day I finished my post about the pirate Black Bart with my right hand and went to an emergency unit to have my shoulder x-rayed.
The doctor said my collarbone was broken, wrapped me up like a mummy and said I should rest for the time being. This essentially means I am sentenced to the local pubs for the next few weeks, as I can find no rest at home.
There are three lessons to be learned here:

• Tutelage under secret cult of monks from Hercegovina mountains pays out
• When you apply the knowledge gained from the monks, try not to break your shoulder
• Don’t break your collarbone a week before St. Paddy