Flats, Bats and Beer!

Things in the night:

            On 2.09.2011 I met up with a friend in front of Parliament on Rustaveli Street around 20.00.  The plan was to walk to the grocers, Populi, near Ilia Chavachadze University and buy a small amount of food and a suitable amount of beer to take back to her family’s new flat. 

            On our way there we made short talk and I was informed that the night ere this big black bird was in her room and she freaked out.  In fact, as she was telling me this it seemed the clasps of hysteria hadn’t quite released her.  Noticing that the words of description were “bird,” “big” and “black” I came to the conclusion that this must be a crow.  Then she added the word “blind” and I told her that it must be a bat.  She then said that it was like a scene from “The Birds”.  Regardless we were able to get some beers and a bag of Lays <>. 

            The building that hosts the flat is completely new and like all new buildings has several inconsistencies which can be translated simply as being unfinished.  New does not mean complete, and after much deliberation this concept does indeed hold more than a grain of truth.  Anon she began describing what appeared was going to be the biggest difficulty.  She lived on the seventh floor and the elevator still had yet to discover its purpose in life and was nothing more than a mere mountebank.  We begin our ascent up the concrete stair case carrying our libations, chips and whatever else we had and as we reach the fourth floor it has become apparent that not only has the elevator rebelled against the building but the lighting was sympathetic to its cause.  Absolute darkness engulfs us until our feet echo across the seventh landing.

            She opens the kitchen door, shrieks and slams it shut.  There is a bat in the kitchen.  The kitchen connects to the living area and I walk over and crack open the door providing a glimpse into what would become a scene of absolute carnage.  About five bats are aimlessly circling the room and it is at this point that hysteria lays claim to her senses.  Her fingers move at speeds of which I could never dream of competing as they enter a series of numbers on her phone.  She called more people than I have on any of my phones in a matter minutes.  30 minutes later her brother arrives with two others. 

            They barge in the kitchen and a few seconds go by before they streak back into the hall, slamming the door behind them.  Then they began to arm themselves with whatever they could turn into an arsenal.  I offer them my hat (both as a kind gesture and one of surrendering) but they refuse.  One disappears into the toilet and remerges with a yellow washcloth sprawled on his head.  They grab a broom and a dustpan before rushing into the living area to begin what was to be a truculent rampage. 

            Between their contumelies in Georgian, my friend’s banshee and her phone ringing the sharp thud we can hear against the wall can only be described as axiomatic.  Actually it can be described by a great many of words, including “bang” but I really wanted to use axiomatic.  The only other thing that was audible is that same cry the bats release as they are being attacked.  One goes down and the carcass is rapidly collected into the dustpan and dropped…off the seventh floor balcony.   

           

Imagine this, walking along the sidewalks in the nicer part of Tbilisi, perhaps with your significant other only to hear a dull thud.  You both look at each other, the nascent noise still fresh in your memory but unable to compute as to what it could be…you take another step and something drops at your feet.  Or rather imagine some beldame, strolling along to the market, as you do every morning the rising sun greeting your footsteps.  In addition to the usual refuse of empty beer bottles, random pieces of plastic containers that housed some sort of nondurable good the sidewalks are peppered with bats, all within a one meter radius.  Cause for alarm?  Perhaps not, but it is certainly something that will linger in the depths of one’s memory for quite sometime.

            This night time funerals continue without hesitation until the kitchen area and the connecting den are vacated of these flying creatures.  We relax for a brief moment inspecting for any damage that may have been caused by our bastinado escapade that could only be explained as one of rectitude.  They did after all invade our living space without any form of invitation.  Nothing appears to be completely ruined, yes of course the space is slightly disheveled, after all it had been rough for a few moments.  Then one of the guys looks up at the light fixture that is centered in the ceiling.  Its one of those in the shape of a large bowl, and perhaps if desired could be used as one.  Its lip rests only half an inch from the actual ceiling and it is turned on presenting us light.  Of course the light not only provides us a luxury it furnishes the startling realization that not all of the bats have been evicted from the premises.  The light is blocked in one portion, in the perfect shape of a bat….

            A step ladder materializes.  One of the boys climbs it and starts inspecting.  We go the bathroom looking for any kind of spray.  In my mind I though the best option would be to utilize a water bottle of sorts that emits a straight spray, however all we had were aerosol containers.  At least the bat would meet its fate smelling of lemons and pine trees.  15 minutes later, accompanied with a broken plastic hanger and half of the contents of a cleaning aerosol canister the bat emerges and the battle begins.  Its over quickly and the once terrified creature joins its brethren on the sidewalks below, giving the passerby’s a moment to contemplate the salient concept of life, flight and death. 

            As the night comes to a close we find two more in her room.  All in all, due to snaring wit, seven bats have been removed from Tbilisi and five people have it forever etched into their memory of a night filled with bats.  The new flat has proven to be tenable and the city of Tbilisi, while delivering mercurial situations far from prosiac, still proves that any situation can be a boon. 

            Books read since I last posted:  Lost in Mongolia; The Bastard of Istanbul; In Defense of Women (Mencken!)