Day 1: July 20th

I knew something was awry when they kicked us out of the VIP Diamond Lounge even after I flashed my giant diamond belt buckle. “I belong here,” I declared, to veiled laughter. But, we needed that van!

I’ve always wanted to be a van guy and little did I know – I already am! The ‘van’ we rented is no larger than my Subaru wagon back home though they insist on calling it a van at every opportunity. We didn’t question them because it fit our bikes fine and that was all that mattered.

So, we were off. Driving on the Autobahn like James Bond on one of those routine days that they don’t make movies about.

As soon as we crossed the border into the Czech Republic we were flagged down off the highway by what we thought was a distressed motorist. He approached our car, handed me a business card through the passenger’s side window and forcefully tried to give me all of his gold jewellery (MY KIND OF PLACE!) though it was all part of some in-person Nigerian Princess SCAM. I was impressed by his gall and It seemed to be paying off because he had a lot of gold rings.

We thought we would see signs to the airport as we closed in on Prague but the highway quickly disintegrated into a downtown street. No signs anywhere. Panicky and stressed and not wanting to scratch our sweet ‘van’, we just took random turns trying to escape the claustrophobia, caught in the gravity of the city centrum (we have rental car agoraphobia). Eventually, totally lost, Anna parked the car hastily in a streetcar-induced panic. Resolved to ask a hotel receptionist for directions we deboarded the ‘van’, only to find that we were right at the feet of the only statue in Prague I wanted to see! Tycho Brahe & Johannes Kepler staring off into the heavens because the blandness of the surrounding architecture and streetcar wire madness.

Anna gives credit for this stroke of serendipity to “The Power of the Galaxy Dress”. A galaxy print dress I bought for her off Ebay before the trip (which she wears quite well) and that seems fitting given the context.

After that, nothing can go wrong in Prague, and we proved that by sleeping in the ‘van’ in a darkened, barbwire fenced neighbourhood guarded by a friendly cat the size of a squirrel AND our bikes didn’t get stolen!

Day 2: July 21^st

We dropped off the rental car to a man of few word who refused to acknowledge Anna despite the fact the rental car was in her name. But after handing over the keys and witnessing a few unnecessary burnouts he was out of our lives forever.

We rode our bikes into town and had a somewhat trying experience coordinating a check-in time with Viktor, our golf pro/taxi driver/AirBnB host. He showed up I a double parked Mercedes wearing pajama pants and told us drank 30 vodkas in on night.

The rest of the day we spent wandering the streets of Prague like guppies in a tank that only know to eat when they see food and to get out of the way when something is coming at them.

Day 3: July 22^nd

We wanted to look cool, to look like Europeans, to complete our little Prague balcony, so we decided to buy cigarettes. But I fucked up and bought slims.

So we remain forever outsiders in a foreign land, only allowed to view their achievements amongst crowds and cameras, only allowed to look the part in pictures that don’t contain us.

I burn through each tiny cigarette like devolved Czech currency, trying to make it more meaningful, trying to make it more than it is. . . trying to make it a normal cigarette.

I tell myself stories of what is inspirational, stories about what makes me think, but I don’t listen.  I don’t listen because I don’t understand Czech, and I don’t understand how to live and breathe and exist in cities with history over a thousand years heavy.

I don’t know how to sleep in their malls, walk in their crowds or eat their food slowly (or any food slowly for that matter). I don’t know how to sip their cocktails in Sky Bars that look out on a city backlit by lightning. I don’t know how to get excited without yelling or how to build comraderie without smiling at strangers. And I certainly don’t know how to smoke cigarettes.

But I’m trying.

Day 4: July 23^rd

You’re not really having sex until the cops come.