CHAPTER 21 - A Friendly Face
I spoke with Mike for the first time since we had parted in Amsterdam, nearly a year had passed, later on that week. He wanted to know if he could come to Prague for a visit during the last week of May. Apparently, he had a week off from school or work or whatever he was involved with at the time, and could think of no better way to spend it than by catching up with me there in Bohemia. I told him that he was more than welcome and eagerly anticipated his arrival.
Mike’s plane landed on the second to last Sunday of May and would be taking off on the last Sunday. A week together with one of my favorite fellow Philadelphians.
I noticed him immediately as he walked through the arrivals gate at Ružinye International Airport. Mike was about half a head taller than the rest of the passengers. This time, however, it wasn’t his height that set him apart but his facial hair. Mike was sporting a bushy moustache that took a handlebar turn at the corners of his mouth and continued down the to edge of his chin.
I stepped forward and greeted my old friend, "Hey man, nice to see you again. You look good – especially with the Fu Man Chu."
Mike stroked his moustache confidently, "It’s style, Paul, style."
"Yeah, maybe in the Seventies, man. How many times do I have to tell you? Lay off the old Kung Fu flicks!"
Mike just smirked, winked, and stroked his moustache once again – confident as ever.
"But honestly, it’s good to see you again. It’s been a long time..."
"Yeah, about a year," he interrupted. "Since Amsterdam. I knew you said you’d be back in Philly by Thanksgiving – it’s just that I didn’t realize you meant Thanksgiving 2010!"
"Yeah, well... You know how one thing leads to another."
"I hear ya."
Mike and I got on the bus at the airport and began the one-hour trek from Ružinye to the Dum. We drove through the city center and, eventually, got off at a subway station. From there, we’d have to take the Metro to Kačerova station, the one nearest tot he Dum, and then transfer again to another bus.
"Wow," Mike remarked as we waited for the Metro to arrive, "I didn’t expect this city to be, well, so beautiful."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you know. I thought – Eastern Europe, former Communist country – I thought this place would be in shambles."
"Yeah, well... I guess I sort of thought that too before I came here. But then I fell in love with the place. I mean, even this subway station. Look at it! It’s so futuristic and clean! Not like those piss-soaked tunnels we have back in Philly."
Mike laughed. "You know, I’d been wondering why you came here. I mean Prague, you know, out of all places to live. And you know what I came up with? Why I thought you fell in love with this place?"
I shrugged my shoulders and waited for Mike’s response. I respected him. I respected Mike’s thoughts and opinions. Many a night we had spent back home simply talking and discussing life’s eternal mysteries. And Mike constantly seemed to have answers. I may not have always agreed with them, but they were often very profound. Words you could frame and hang in your home.
"I thought you followed a hooker here! All the way from Amsterdam!"
"What?"
"I swear to God, dude! Remember that one prostitute we saw in Amsterdam? That cute blonde one? I actually thought you came here to be with her! I don’t know, like you guys just took off and came here together. Incredible, I know. But that’s what I thought. You were following your dick and it was pointing directly to Prague!"
"What? What are you talking about? What prostitute in Amsterdam?"
"Come on dude! Don’t tell me you don’t remember!"
The Metro arrived, its doors slid open, and we continued the conversation inside. For the life of me, I honestly couldn’t remember who Mike was talking about. My horrible memory, again, had let me down. Mike even described her, but nothing clicked. He was recreating a phantom’s image. He told me about the time we had first past that prostitute’s pink-hued window – after we had smoked a joint – and how I just stood there, staring at her. I wouldn’t leave, even after a good ten minutes, so Mike told me that he’d just meet me back at the hostel later on that night. At least, that’s what Mike remembered. He assumed I wanted to buy some of her goods and just left me there to do some more window-shopping. After that, every time we were separated in Amsterdam, he just concluded I was paying her little enterprise another visit.
I had no idea what he was talking about. And, strangest of all, I couldn’t even recall an image of this girl I had apparently followed halfway across Europe. "No way man, no way. That never happened."
"I’m telling you dude, it did!"
"Come on, I can remember who I’ve slept with for God’s sake! And in Amsterdam, I only slept with one prostitute. Now her, I remember perfectly. A real knockout. She was a brunette – not a blonde – and I only slept with her once!"
"Are you sure?"
"Come on, man! Of course I am... Well, okay. Maybe I slept with her more than once. But only her! I swear! I have no idea who this girl you’re talking about is."
"Okay, okay. Well, maybe it’s my mistake then. But still, you have to admit it’s pretty funny."
"What is?"
"The fact that I thought you ‘ran away’ to Prague with a hooker!" Mike started laughing and I joined in as our train zipped through the dark subterranean tunnels constructed below a Communist Prague well before our time.
Mike had some pretty bad jetlag so we didn’t do much that night. He just unpacked his things in my room and fell fast asleep in the cot Dejan had lent me and I had set up for him.
I got ready for work the next morning as quietly as possible and headed off to the center to start another working week. Four hours later, just as I was arriving back home at the Dum, Mike woke up. Thankfully, he had slept his jetlag away. He took a shower, got dressed, and we went in search of a local restaurant.
There was one down the street from McDonald’s that I sometimes ate at so I took him there. Seeing as the weather had finally improved over the past week (after six long months of Czech winter, spring had finally arrived by mid-May), there were even tables and chairs for customers set outdoors. We seated ourselves and started looking through the menu.
"Shit. I can’t understand a thing. Can you translate this, Paul?"
"Well, some of it. Let me see..." I translated a few items for Mike, about a half dozen or so. "Sorry man. I don’t really know that many of these choices. They only have two vegetarian dishes so I usually eat one or the other."
"That sucks. Do they have an English menu?"
I shook my head.
"Fuck it then. I’ll just get some of that goulash you talked about and a beer." Mike closed the menu and took out a cigarette. "Say Paul, how do you say ‘beer’ in Czech?"
"Now THAT I can translate! Pivo."
Mike lit his cigarette and took a drag. "Pivo, eh?" he mumbled. Then he grabbed the menu and opened it again. "Fuck! I knew it. Look at this! ‘Pivo... Twelve koruna.’ What’s that? Like thirty cents?"
I winked at him and smiled.
"Holy shit! It’s the cheapest thing on the menu! I mean... I mean... How do you say ‘water’?"
"Voda."
"Voda... voda... twenty-five koruna! Incredible! Water’s more expensive than beer! I mean, wow! This is... this is..."
"Paradise, my friend," I completed Mike’s sentence. "Welcome to the Czech Republic."
We had our lunch, drank a few more beers while sitting there in the sunlight, and, finally, decided to leave. I thought I’d show Mike around the historic city center a bit so we made our way to the nearest bus stop.
"Listen, I usually don’t buy a ticket. Well, I did actually yesterday for both of us when we were coming from the airport, but I usually never do. If it would make you feel more comfortable though, we can buy one now," I told him as we waited in line to enter the bus.
"Why? Do we need a ticket? What’ll happen if we get caught without one?"
"Well, there are ticket inspectors. Plain-clothed inspectors actually. But if they stop you, you can just make up some sort of story. Like your wallet got stolen or something."
"Are you sure? I mean, how many times have you done this?"
"Trust me, I NEVER buy tickets. I’ve been stopped like a half dozen times without one on me and I always talk my way out of the fine."
"Alright. That’s cool. But still, I don’t know. Maybe I’d just feel more comfortable if I bought a ticket. I mean, they’re pretty cheap, right? How much are they?"
"Twelve korunas."
"Yeah, twelve korunas. That’s nothing. I think I’ll buy..." Mike paused for a second just as he started searching his pocket for change. "Hold on. Twelve korunas? Fuck that... That’s a beer!"
I couldn’t agree more with Mike as we sat down in our seats and rode to the center black.
Mike and I walked around the historic part of Prague all afternoon. I showed him Karlův Most, Hradčany, and Staroměstské náměstí. Eventually, after we had walked through countless winding cobblestone alleys, we ended up in a small Czech pub, drinking away what we had saved on public transportation costs.
"So, what are you involved with in Philly now?"
"Eh, nothing really. I mean, nothing worth mentioning."
"Come on man!" I urged him on. "Before we left for Amsterdam last year, you were wrapping up your Bachelor’s Degree or something, weren’t you?"
"Yeah, yeah." Mike grabbed his beer and took a long sip, "...But I’m probably gonna go for more school now."
"What? Like a Master’s?"
"Yeah, an MBA to be exact."
"What?!" Mike? A Master’s of Business Administration?! "You’ve got to be kidding me, man! An MBA? I mean... Why?"
"Why not?" He took out a cigarette and offered me one. I accepted.
"Well, where should I begin? First of all, it doesn’t really ‘fit’ you, if you know what I mean. What was your major again? English Literature?"
"Comparative Lit."
"Yeah, yeah. Same difference. Come on, man. You can’t be serious. You’re gonna go from reading Dostoevsky and The Aeneid to balancing corporate spreadsheets?"
"Well, actually... I never read any Virgil."
"Come on. Stop fucking around. You know what I mean."
"Okay. Of course I do. But listen, I’m not even sure I can go for an MBA with my Bachelor’s."
"But if you could?"
"If I could, brother, I’d do it in a heartbeat."
"Mike, I can’t believe I’m hearing this from you. I mean, I mean... I thought you had that same free spirit as I did. The one that brought me here. That’s why we’re such good friends. Why we’ve always been. Why we always seem to get along so well. I thought... Well, I thought we were the same."
Mike took a long drag from his cigarette and leaned back into his chair. "Dude, who’s to say we aren’t the same?"
"Come on! Don’t be ridiculous! You want to get a business degree so that you can start working in some cubicle and, after waiting a few years, maybe even decades, they’ll move you up into an office? Honestly, is that your goal now? Is that what you want to be your goal? That maybe, one day, you might have your own private window in an office building?"
"Yeah. But it’ll be my own office and it’ll have a helluva great view!"
"Come on, man. I’m being serious."
"So am I! What’s your goal then, Paul? Huh? Is it the same as mine was last year? Nothing? Is that it? Well, at least getting an office job – entering the corporate world – will give me some sort of goal. Something to aim for... Even if it is only an office room with a nice view."
"That’s bullshit. I have goals."
"Yeah? Like what?"
"Well, you know... Enjoy life and live it to the fullest."
Mike just stared at me for a few seconds. "Are you serious? You must be joking, dude. That’s not a goal. What’s that? How can you accomplish ‘enjoy life’ and ‘live to the fullest’? And even if you could, you think you’d actually realize it when you did? Look, I thought the same way when we left Amsterdam. Who needs this bureaucratic business bullshit that makes the world economy go round, right? But when I graduated and started looking for work to pay off my college loans, I realized I didn’t like what was happening. Looking for crappy service sector jobs with a degree in Liberal Arts – waiter, barman, you name it – in order to pay off my bills. And, worst of all, STILL having to ask my parents occasionally for money." Mike took a long sip of beer and laughed, "How do you think I could afford this trip?! ...No way, dude. If I’m gonna get a crappy job, I might as well get paid well for doing it. And at least it’ll give me some goal, some purpose in life – even if it is something as shitty as my own private office."
"Listen man," I took the last drag from my cigarette and snuffed it. "If those are the only true goals life has to offer, than I’m more than happy having no goals at all."
"Whatever, dude. If that’s the way you feel, more power to you. It’s just that I know I can’t do it. I can’t go wandering through life with no aim. I can’t – at least not any more. I spent the last few months trying to figure out where I’d be in twenty to thirty years. After I went back home and graduated, that’s all I did all day. And then it hit me. Like some stank-ass pile of shit, it smacked me in the face..."
"Nice analogy," I interrupted.
"That was a simile, dude. But thanks anyway... Where was I? Oh yeah, so it hit me. I have to get a job, working fixed hours five days a week, and being content to only have the weekends for myself – at least until I finally get married and then don’t even have those two days. I mean, that’s the real world. This is the real world. It’s something that has to be done and will, inevitably, happen... no matter how hard one fights against it. So, I figured, why not make a shitload of cash in the process?"
We ordered another pint of beer and I continued, "Come on, man... It’s not inevitable. Nothing is! Look at me! Living here in Prague and never even having to think about this shit you’re talking about. You wanna know what my biggest problem is? My biggest source of stress? Well, for the past six months, the only thing I’ve ever had to worry about is whether a ticket inspector is going to stop me on the Metro, bus, or tram. That’s it man! Fucking ticket inspectors! The rest of the time I just sit back, relax, and enjoy whatever new adventures life throws my way!"
"Yeah, maybe." The beers arrived. Mike and I lifted our glasses and nazdravíed each other. I had taught him the custom earlier that day. "But I can’t do this shit. What you’re doing."
"What do you mean?"
"Dude. You know what I mean. Just packing my shit and leaving Philly? I have obligations. I have things tying me down there. I mean, what about work, my friends, my family. And that’s not even the tough part. I mean, how the fuck can I ever move to another country without any plans? I have no idea how you did it. You didn’t have any work lined up. No cash. Nowhere to live. Hell, you didn’t even speak a word of the language!"
"Still hardly can! I mean, well, yeah... Of course it was difficult at first but I..."
"Difficult? Difficult! That’s an understatement." Mike sighed heavily, "Fuck, dude. If that’s your advice to me – to do what you did – then keep it for yourself. I can’t handle it. It’s not even an option."
"But why not? Mike! Come on! I know you. If I can do it, so can you! So can anyone. It’s not that difficult. All you need is some courage. Some balls."
"Jesus! This is beyond balls! We’re talking insanity."
"Hey, I did it!"
"Yeah, yeah. Sure. But don’t expect others to. Just don’t."
Mike and I sat there in silence for a few minutes, just sipping our beer, smoking another cigarette, and listening to the music.
"Pink Floyd, man," I interrupted the speechlessness.
"What?"
"Pink Floyd, man. Pink Floyd."
"What are you talking about? The song that’s playing now?" Mike paused and listened. "This is the Stones, dude."
"No, no, man. Not this song. Pink Floyd. The Machine. They’re always talking about the Machine. And I started thinking about Wish You Were Here."
"Paul? What the fuck are you talking about? What does that have to do with anything?"
"Pink Floyd. Wish You Were Here. ‘Did you exchange a walk-on part in the war, for a lead-role in the cage?’ You know, that’s my favorite lyric of all time."
"Ah, fuck. Is that what you’re still going on about? I’m getting tired of this conversation."
"Nothing to get tired of. Just one last thing though, make sure you read that poem back in my room when we go home. The one on my door."
"Why? Who is it?"
"Frost."
"Yeah, yeah," Mike sighed. "Alright."
We sat there in silence for another minute or so until three girls entered the pub and walked by us. They were all tall, slim, and dressed to kill. Mike’s eyes and mine followed them until they disappeared into the backroom.
"Jesus!" Mike exclaimed." These Czech broads got it goin’ ON!"
"Oh yeah! This country is full of hotties."
"Goddamn, you can say that again. One question then, Paul... Why the hell am I stuck here looking at only your ugly mug? Don’t you know any Czech girls?"
"Ha ha ha! Yeah man, of course. I teach them! Hot as hell... I can’t even concentrate on class sometimes!"
"Alright then, looks like we have a solution. Invite them out for a drink this week and we’ll see what we can do!"
I talked to Eva the next morning after class and asked her if she was free Friday night. She said she was and that she would love to join me and Mike. She even promised to bring a couple of female friends along. I went back home to the Dum and told Mike. He was ecstatic.
Later on that Tuesday, I took Mike back to the city center and showed him what sights we had missed the previous day. Unfortunately though, I had a night class that day. Mike said he didn’t mind if I left him on his own. He’d just walk around some more, take some picture, and then maybe grab some dinner somewhere. In fact, he said, I didn’t even have to come meet him after I was done teaching. He just dangled the spare key I had given him in front of my face and told me that he would meet me back at the Dum. He’d find his way there, he assured me, eventually – even if it was a bit of a complicated journey. Little did I realize that ‘eventually’ meant in three days.
Mike called me the next morning on my cell phone and told me what had happened. A Czech girl at a club he had wandered into. The bastard! I had been in the country for half a year without any luck. It took Mike two days. With jetlag nonetheless. But then again, he had always had a way with women. I was sure he had a girl waiting for him in Philly too, but that didn’t bother Mike. The more the merrier. I, on the other hand, was dying a slow and horny death in the confines of my communist Dum housing, with nothing but the monthly porn-mag LEO to ease my suffering.
Mike told me that he would probably be spending the next few days with this new girl but, not to worry, we would meet up on Friday evening and still go out with Eva and her friends that night just as we had planned.
He kept his word and met me and Luke and Char (I also invited them out that night) on Friday at Václavské náměstí. Eva would be waiting for us at a nearby bar so we made our way there together.
"So, y’all are friends from Philly, huh?" Luke asked.
"Yeah, Paul and I have known each other since... Hey Paul, how long have we known each other?"
"Fuck... I don’t know. Forever. Since we were kids. Mike and I grew up in the same neighborhood."
"Aha."
"And you guys? How do you know him?"
"Well, Luke lived with him in college for a year or two and then I started datin’ Luke. Then it just happened, outta the blue, that we ran inta each other here in Prague not too long ago," Char replied in her charming Georgian accent.
"What? You guys live here too? Or are you just visiting?"
"Naw. We moved down here a couple of months ago. Don’t know how long we’ll stay, but we’re livin’ here now!"
"Wow, that’s incredible! I thought only you had the balls to do something crazy like this. Just get up and go," Mike told me.
"See man. It’s exactly what I said – anybody can do it." We turned off the square onto a small cobblestone street. "But enough of this. So tell me, man. Where have you disappeared to these past few days? Who’s this chick you met?"
Mike sighed with a smile and took out a cigarette, "Jana... What a sweet, sexy find. I can’t believe it. We just ran into each other, started talking at the club, and – before I knew it – that was it!"
"You can’t believe it! How about me? I’ve been here for half a year with no luck and you find a girl after only two days!"
"I guess that means still no luck with Eva, huh Paul?" Luke chimed in.
I gave him a bitter look and turned to Mike again. "So, where’s Jana tonight? Why didn’t you bring her out?"
"Ah, it’s better this way, dude. Neither of us needs to get too attached. I’m gonna be gone the day after tomorrow and she’s goin’ back to her boyfriend and normal life here in Prague."
"She has a boyfriend?" Luke asked.
Mike winked at us all, stroked his moustache, and continued, "What can I say? When you got it, you got it!"
I didn’t know what the ‘it’ Mike was talking about was, but I desperately needed to get some.
"Besides," he went on, "we had our fun for the last few days. I actually told her my plane was leaving tonight so we already said goodbye and all that."
"Incredible..." I paused in front of a smoky doorway, "So, this is the place where we’re meeting Eva and her friends."
I walked in first and heard Mike talking to Luke behind me.
"Who’s this Eva chick anyway?"
"Oh, it’s one of Paul’s students. He’s been tryin’ to bag her forever but no luck yet."
"Poor bastard."
Pop music was coming through the speakers as I entered through the door. Eva caught my eye. She was sitting towards the back with two friends and waving at us. I went over and introduced myself to the girls. They looked familiar as I vaguely remembered them from Eva’s birthday party. Pavla had short black hair styled with precision and mousse. Magda had blonde hair a shade darker than Eva’s and a bit longer. They both had piercing blue eyes, stunningly gorgeous faces, and incredible bodies. Definitely the kind of girls I imagined Eva would have as friends. They stood up from their seats, leaned over, kissed me hello on the lips, and waited to be introduced to the others. Eva also stood up, leaned over, and pecked me on the cheek. Whatthefuck began to descend over my countenance when I realized that the others were still waiting to be introduced.
"So, this is Char and Luke. Eva, I think you may have met them before."
"Yes, at birthday party of Paul," She leaned over and kissed Char gently on the cheek and Luke on the lips.
"And this is my good friend Mike." Mike went around the table and gave each of the three girls a nice little wet smooch on the lips. By the time he was done, a look of pure amazement had taken over his entire face.
"So, let’s sit down, shall we?"
Eva made room on the bench where she was sitting for me while Char, Luke, and Mike pulled up some extra chairs.
"You are Paul friend from Philadelphia, yes? He tells me about you."
"Yeah, yeah. We’ve known each other for a long time," Mike spoke as his jaw still hung half-open with shock.
"Yes, he said this." Eva’s friends said something to her in Czech. Apparently, they didn’t speak any English. All three giggled. "So," Eva started again, "How long in Prague?"
"How long have I been here?"
"Maybe. When do you leave?"
"Oh, I’m headin’ back to Philly on Sunday."
"Only? Sunday. Is very short."
"Yeah, well I have stuff to take care of. You know. Work and all that."
"Ah, yes. And what work you do? You are driving the lorries?"
"What?"
"Lorries... or, ehm... Trucks. You are driving trucks?"
"Well, no. Why do you say that?"
"Moustache you have. Is normal for truck driving, no? Always in American films peoples with this moustache are driving trucks."
Luke, Char, and I all burst out in laughter. "Dude!" I interrupted, "She’s right! Only truck drivers – those big eighteen wheel motherfuckers – have your moustache! Style my ass!"
"Yes, it is true? You are driving trucks?"
"No, no, no. I don’t drive a truck. I just have a kick-ass moustache," he replied as he stroked it with confidence and winked at the girls.
"I don’t understand... I will go get drinks. What do you want? Beer?" Eva took our order, got up, and went to the bar.
"Dude," Mike leaned over to me. "Those chicks just kissed me on the lips."
"Yeah, it’s normal here. Is that why you look so shocked?"
"Partly. Jana kept doing it too, but I wasn’t really sure until now."
"Well, I think it’s a custom that..."
"But," Mike leaned in even closer as he interrupted me. "That Eva girl. Your student... I’ve seen her before."
"What? Really? Where?"
"Trust me, dude. And so have you."
"Of course I have. I’ve been teaching her for the past few months."
"No, no. Before that. Before you even came to this city."
"What the fuck are you talking about, Mike?"
"Amsterdam, dude. Amsterdam. She’s the chick! She’s the one you were staring at that night. She’s the one I thought you followed halfway across Europe!"
"What? What the... But, but... She’s probably never even been to Holland! And besides, I keep telling you, I have no idea who you’re talking about. This whole story about some prostitute in Amsterdam... It never happened, man!"
"Alright, alright maybe. But this chick – this Eva – looks exactly like the girl I remember. The one I thought you left with. And I’m telling you dude – either it’s her, or her fucking twin."
"What? Mike, you’re crazy. You have no idea what you’re..."
"Hold on, hold on." He looked me directly in the eyes and kept his gaze firmly fixed. "Just tell me Paul. Tell me. I won’t judge you. I’m you’re friend, man. I just wanna know if I’m right. Did you follow Eva here from Amsterdam?"
"What? No! Of course not! This is ridiculous!"
"What’s all the commotion about fellas?" Char asked from the other side of the table.
"Nothing, nothing. Mike’s just... acting strange."
Eva returned with the drinks and I got up to help her. Before I knew it, Mike was telling Char and Luke his theory. They had a look of disbelief on their faces and I heard Char remark, "That CAN’T be true!"
Eva and I sat back down on the same bench. We all nazdravíed each other and I soon took out some tobacco and started rolling.
"So," Mike looked at Eva. "This week has been great for me here in the Czech Republic. I love traveling. It’s great. And you, Eva? Have you ever traveled?"
"Yes, of course."
"Oh, that’s nice. To what countries?"
Everyone’s attention at the table, apart from Pavla’s and Magda’s, was now undividedly focused on Eva. "Well, not much countries. Only in Europe. German, Austria, Polan..."
"That’s it?" Mike was relentless.
"Ah yes! Sorry. One more when I was young but forgot... France."
"And that’s it?"
"Yes, yes. Only this."
"Hey man, come on," I pulled him aside. "That’s enough. I told you that you were imagining things."
"She could be lying, Paul. You never know."
"Come on, man. Why would she do that? You’re being ridiculous. For fuck’s sake, she’s only like nineteen or twenty or something."
"Exactly!" his eyes lit up. "Perfect age... And with a bangin’ body like that, I wouldn’t blame her for making that kind of career choice."
"Trust me, Mike. Eva has never been a prostitute – especially one in Amsterdam. Let’s just drop it, okay?"
"Yeah, yeah... Sure. Just one more thing," and with that Mike turned to Eva once more. "Have you ever visited the Anne Frank House?"
"No. Where is this?"
"Sure, sure. Where is it," he replied in a barely audible voice. "And Heineken? You like Heineken? Have you ever been to its brewery?"
"Is disgusting! Heineken... Czech beer is best in world!" and with that, Eva raised her glass and nazdravíed us all again. We clinked our glasses and drank some good ol’ Czech Pilsner. "But what is browry?" she asked Mike innocently when we had all taken our fill.
"Brewery, not browry... Nothing, forget it."
The rest of the evening in the bar was rather uneventful. Mike didn’t bring up anything Dutch again, but he did tell us how, the day before, he had been stopped by a ticket inspector. He had taken my advice, remained calm, and thought of a plausible way out of the tricky situation. He pretended that he couldn’t speak English or any other language known to mankind. Whatever phrases or words the inspector threw his way – French, German, English, Italian, or even Czech – he just kept nodding and smiling amiably. In the end, Mike told us that he gave the plain-clothes inspector a five koruna coin, patted him on the back, said, "Ahh! Homeless!" and simply walked off the tram. The inspector was so embarrassed that Mike, this tourist from some unknown land, had mistaken him for a homeless person, that he didn’t pursue the matter further and made sure to part ways as soon as possible. I congratulated Mike for outwitting an inspector with what must have been the best excuse I had ever heard.
Eva’s friends had to leave at around midnight. They told us that they had to work in the morning, then got up, and went. Luke and Char suggested that the rest of us go somewhere else for a drink after that. They knew of a great little place near their apartment, not too far away. Luke and Char were paying a lot more rent than I was at the Dum but they were therefore blessed with a home in a very convenient central location. Eva decided to join us as well. She felt like another drink and, either way, had nothing to do that Saturday other than sleep in.
The bar they took us to was more of a wine cellar. A quaint little place with large barrels in the back and front. Unfortunately, it closed a mere hour after we arrived. We asked the barman, though, if he could sell us some bottles of wine so that we could take them to Luke and Char’s place down the street. He agreed and, soon, the five of us stepped outdoors with three bottles of wine in our hands.
Then, the strangest thing happened. We were walking through a small local park on our way to the apartment, when we met a group of young Russians sitting on a bench and playing the guitar. They called us over (Eva was hesitant but, in the end, agreed to accompany us) and, before we knew it, we were all sitting together – singing and dancing and drinking what wine we had and what beer and vodka they had. All of the Russians, there were three boys and two girls, were university students in Prague. We had a great time for the next hour or so – just sitting there in the lovely park singing, drinking, and talking with what seemed to be the friendliest people on the planet.
Then I made a mistake. I was talking with one of the boys and he asked me whether I liked Russian vodka after he had offered me his bottle and I had downed some. I smacked my lips, washed it down with some wine, and said that it was good, but I had heard that the best vodka in the world was from Finland. My new friend’s face went cold. Finnish vodka was shit, he kept telling me. Over and over again. No vodka was better than the Russian stuff. Then he spat in my face and unexpectedly punched me in the stomach. Mike jumped in and the little Russian fucker connected a fist with his eye. Fortunately, the other two Russians had managed to take a hold of their friend before he was able to throw any more punches. They apologized for their friend, who kept on raving about Russian and Finnish vodka even while in the firm grasp of others, and told us it would probably be best if we parted ways. They didn’t want anymore problems, and neither did we.
We eventually made it to Luke and Char’s place, sat down on their sofa, popped open the last bottle of wine, and went to work on it. Char got some ice for Mike’s eye which, even though only fifteen minutes had passed, was already starting to change color. Incredible, Mike bragged. He had come to Prague for a week, got laid within two days, and would be returning home with a black eye.
None of us really felt like drinking that much more that night. It was three o’clock, we had been through a lot, and were all exhausted. Luke and Char said we could sleep at their place if we wanted and we agreed. One of the couches in the living room changed into a bed for two and the sofa was big enough to accommodate one person. Char gave us some sheets, told Mike to sleep on the sofa and, after winking at me, said Eva and I could sleep on the fold-out. I was ecstatic. Even after the fight with that Russian and the punch in the stomach, which still hurt, I would now be sleeping in the same bed with my little Czech flower. Eva smiled at me when Char made the suggestion and said that she didn’t mind. She turned to me and kept smiling. She didn’t mind?! Oh the things I would do! Eros, who I thought had at least temporarily disappeared, took control once again and at last, I knew it, the Řepy magic that Pavel had shown me so long ago would finally have a chance to show its might.
While we were getting ready for bed, Mike pulled me aside. "Here’s your chance, Paul! When you put the moves on Eva and want me to leave the room, just tell me."
"OK, okay. My god. I can’t believe this is happening tonight. My God... So, why don’t we... I know. If I say, ‘Man! It’s hot in here!’ why don’t you agree with me, then say that you’re going for a short walk around the block or something, okay?"
Mike agreed. I couldn’t wait. I went to the bathroom, washed my face, and used so much of Luke’s mouthwash that I practically swallowed the stuff. Then I went to the living room. Mike was lying on his sofa and Eva was lying on her back towards the opposite edge of the bed. I lied down next to her, Char wished us good night, then closed the door and switched off the lights.
I worked my way closer to Eva. She didn’t move.
"It’s cold in here, Eva, isn’t it?" as I put my arm around her waist and waited for a response.
Nothing. But I could hear Mike sit up on his sofa behind us, "Alright then. That was fast. But I agree. It’s very hot in here. Well, I’m going for a short walk around the block, ok?"
I turned around and tried to make out his shape in the darkness, "I said it’s cold in here, numb-nuts. Not that it’s hot."
"Right, right. Sorry. Screw it. I’m going to sleep," And with that Mike lied back down. He was purring lightly within the next five minutes.
I rolled back around in Eva’s direction and slowly inched my way closer once again. She didn’t move. I again put my arm around her and gradually cuddled up next to her. She didn’t say a word. I casually put my face closer to her neck, breathed in her sweet scent, thought of what was to come, and kissed her below her ear. She didn’t budge. She didn’t speak. She didn’t do anything. Eva just lied there. In that same exact, cold, vertical position. I was getting nowhere. I lifted my head and peered through the darkness at her face. Her beautiful eyes were shut and she was breathing calmly through her nose. I couldn’t try to kiss her, I thought. She wasn’t even looking at me. She was pretending to be asleep. I lied back down and, with my arm around her waist, began to gently, sensuously rub her stomach. Still nothing. Her arms were like two heavy logs by her side. She wasn’t reacting at all. I waited there, with my arm around her, for some sort of reaction. Fifteen. Twenty. Thirty minutes. And still there was no response from her frigid body.
"Fuck this," I whispered and rolled over in the other direction, with my back to the girl that Eros had chosen for me, and soon fell asleep to the muffled sound of Mike’s rhythmic snores.
I briefly woke up as the sun started rising, realized that I was still in bed with my beautiful Czech, and rolled around to see her. Incredible! She was still asleep in the same exact position! She hadn’t moved at all during the night.
"Eva," I whispered as quietly as I could in order to test her state.
"Yes?" she replied immediately, obviously not asleep.
"Are you comfortable?" I whispered again.
"Yes," she calmly replied.
"Well how the FUCK can you be?! You’ve been sleeping in the same GODDAMN position all FUCKING night!!!" I exploded. Not only did I wake up Mike with that little comment, but Char and Luke in the other room as well.
Mike’s plane landed on the second to last Sunday of May and would be taking off on the last Sunday. A week together with one of my favorite fellow Philadelphians.
I noticed him immediately as he walked through the arrivals gate at Ružinye International Airport. Mike was about half a head taller than the rest of the passengers. This time, however, it wasn’t his height that set him apart but his facial hair. Mike was sporting a bushy moustache that took a handlebar turn at the corners of his mouth and continued down the to edge of his chin.
I stepped forward and greeted my old friend, "Hey man, nice to see you again. You look good – especially with the Fu Man Chu."
Mike stroked his moustache confidently, "It’s style, Paul, style."
"Yeah, maybe in the Seventies, man. How many times do I have to tell you? Lay off the old Kung Fu flicks!"
Mike just smirked, winked, and stroked his moustache once again – confident as ever.
"But honestly, it’s good to see you again. It’s been a long time..."
"Yeah, about a year," he interrupted. "Since Amsterdam. I knew you said you’d be back in Philly by Thanksgiving – it’s just that I didn’t realize you meant Thanksgiving 2010!"
"Yeah, well... You know how one thing leads to another."
"I hear ya."
Mike and I got on the bus at the airport and began the one-hour trek from Ružinye to the Dum. We drove through the city center and, eventually, got off at a subway station. From there, we’d have to take the Metro to Kačerova station, the one nearest tot he Dum, and then transfer again to another bus.
"Wow," Mike remarked as we waited for the Metro to arrive, "I didn’t expect this city to be, well, so beautiful."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you know. I thought – Eastern Europe, former Communist country – I thought this place would be in shambles."
"Yeah, well... I guess I sort of thought that too before I came here. But then I fell in love with the place. I mean, even this subway station. Look at it! It’s so futuristic and clean! Not like those piss-soaked tunnels we have back in Philly."
Mike laughed. "You know, I’d been wondering why you came here. I mean Prague, you know, out of all places to live. And you know what I came up with? Why I thought you fell in love with this place?"
I shrugged my shoulders and waited for Mike’s response. I respected him. I respected Mike’s thoughts and opinions. Many a night we had spent back home simply talking and discussing life’s eternal mysteries. And Mike constantly seemed to have answers. I may not have always agreed with them, but they were often very profound. Words you could frame and hang in your home.
"I thought you followed a hooker here! All the way from Amsterdam!"
"What?"
"I swear to God, dude! Remember that one prostitute we saw in Amsterdam? That cute blonde one? I actually thought you came here to be with her! I don’t know, like you guys just took off and came here together. Incredible, I know. But that’s what I thought. You were following your dick and it was pointing directly to Prague!"
"What? What are you talking about? What prostitute in Amsterdam?"
"Come on dude! Don’t tell me you don’t remember!"
The Metro arrived, its doors slid open, and we continued the conversation inside. For the life of me, I honestly couldn’t remember who Mike was talking about. My horrible memory, again, had let me down. Mike even described her, but nothing clicked. He was recreating a phantom’s image. He told me about the time we had first past that prostitute’s pink-hued window – after we had smoked a joint – and how I just stood there, staring at her. I wouldn’t leave, even after a good ten minutes, so Mike told me that he’d just meet me back at the hostel later on that night. At least, that’s what Mike remembered. He assumed I wanted to buy some of her goods and just left me there to do some more window-shopping. After that, every time we were separated in Amsterdam, he just concluded I was paying her little enterprise another visit.
I had no idea what he was talking about. And, strangest of all, I couldn’t even recall an image of this girl I had apparently followed halfway across Europe. "No way man, no way. That never happened."
"I’m telling you dude, it did!"
"Come on, I can remember who I’ve slept with for God’s sake! And in Amsterdam, I only slept with one prostitute. Now her, I remember perfectly. A real knockout. She was a brunette – not a blonde – and I only slept with her once!"
"Are you sure?"
"Come on, man! Of course I am... Well, okay. Maybe I slept with her more than once. But only her! I swear! I have no idea who this girl you’re talking about is."
"Okay, okay. Well, maybe it’s my mistake then. But still, you have to admit it’s pretty funny."
"What is?"
"The fact that I thought you ‘ran away’ to Prague with a hooker!" Mike started laughing and I joined in as our train zipped through the dark subterranean tunnels constructed below a Communist Prague well before our time.
Mike had some pretty bad jetlag so we didn’t do much that night. He just unpacked his things in my room and fell fast asleep in the cot Dejan had lent me and I had set up for him.
I got ready for work the next morning as quietly as possible and headed off to the center to start another working week. Four hours later, just as I was arriving back home at the Dum, Mike woke up. Thankfully, he had slept his jetlag away. He took a shower, got dressed, and we went in search of a local restaurant.
There was one down the street from McDonald’s that I sometimes ate at so I took him there. Seeing as the weather had finally improved over the past week (after six long months of Czech winter, spring had finally arrived by mid-May), there were even tables and chairs for customers set outdoors. We seated ourselves and started looking through the menu.
"Shit. I can’t understand a thing. Can you translate this, Paul?"
"Well, some of it. Let me see..." I translated a few items for Mike, about a half dozen or so. "Sorry man. I don’t really know that many of these choices. They only have two vegetarian dishes so I usually eat one or the other."
"That sucks. Do they have an English menu?"
I shook my head.
"Fuck it then. I’ll just get some of that goulash you talked about and a beer." Mike closed the menu and took out a cigarette. "Say Paul, how do you say ‘beer’ in Czech?"
"Now THAT I can translate! Pivo."
Mike lit his cigarette and took a drag. "Pivo, eh?" he mumbled. Then he grabbed the menu and opened it again. "Fuck! I knew it. Look at this! ‘Pivo... Twelve koruna.’ What’s that? Like thirty cents?"
I winked at him and smiled.
"Holy shit! It’s the cheapest thing on the menu! I mean... I mean... How do you say ‘water’?"
"Voda."
"Voda... voda... twenty-five koruna! Incredible! Water’s more expensive than beer! I mean, wow! This is... this is..."
"Paradise, my friend," I completed Mike’s sentence. "Welcome to the Czech Republic."
We had our lunch, drank a few more beers while sitting there in the sunlight, and, finally, decided to leave. I thought I’d show Mike around the historic city center a bit so we made our way to the nearest bus stop.
"Listen, I usually don’t buy a ticket. Well, I did actually yesterday for both of us when we were coming from the airport, but I usually never do. If it would make you feel more comfortable though, we can buy one now," I told him as we waited in line to enter the bus.
"Why? Do we need a ticket? What’ll happen if we get caught without one?"
"Well, there are ticket inspectors. Plain-clothed inspectors actually. But if they stop you, you can just make up some sort of story. Like your wallet got stolen or something."
"Are you sure? I mean, how many times have you done this?"
"Trust me, I NEVER buy tickets. I’ve been stopped like a half dozen times without one on me and I always talk my way out of the fine."
"Alright. That’s cool. But still, I don’t know. Maybe I’d just feel more comfortable if I bought a ticket. I mean, they’re pretty cheap, right? How much are they?"
"Twelve korunas."
"Yeah, twelve korunas. That’s nothing. I think I’ll buy..." Mike paused for a second just as he started searching his pocket for change. "Hold on. Twelve korunas? Fuck that... That’s a beer!"
I couldn’t agree more with Mike as we sat down in our seats and rode to the center black.
Mike and I walked around the historic part of Prague all afternoon. I showed him Karlův Most, Hradčany, and Staroměstské náměstí. Eventually, after we had walked through countless winding cobblestone alleys, we ended up in a small Czech pub, drinking away what we had saved on public transportation costs.
"So, what are you involved with in Philly now?"
"Eh, nothing really. I mean, nothing worth mentioning."
"Come on man!" I urged him on. "Before we left for Amsterdam last year, you were wrapping up your Bachelor’s Degree or something, weren’t you?"
"Yeah, yeah." Mike grabbed his beer and took a long sip, "...But I’m probably gonna go for more school now."
"What? Like a Master’s?"
"Yeah, an MBA to be exact."
"What?!" Mike? A Master’s of Business Administration?! "You’ve got to be kidding me, man! An MBA? I mean... Why?"
"Why not?" He took out a cigarette and offered me one. I accepted.
"Well, where should I begin? First of all, it doesn’t really ‘fit’ you, if you know what I mean. What was your major again? English Literature?"
"Comparative Lit."
"Yeah, yeah. Same difference. Come on, man. You can’t be serious. You’re gonna go from reading Dostoevsky and The Aeneid to balancing corporate spreadsheets?"
"Well, actually... I never read any Virgil."
"Come on. Stop fucking around. You know what I mean."
"Okay. Of course I do. But listen, I’m not even sure I can go for an MBA with my Bachelor’s."
"But if you could?"
"If I could, brother, I’d do it in a heartbeat."
"Mike, I can’t believe I’m hearing this from you. I mean, I mean... I thought you had that same free spirit as I did. The one that brought me here. That’s why we’re such good friends. Why we’ve always been. Why we always seem to get along so well. I thought... Well, I thought we were the same."
Mike took a long drag from his cigarette and leaned back into his chair. "Dude, who’s to say we aren’t the same?"
"Come on! Don’t be ridiculous! You want to get a business degree so that you can start working in some cubicle and, after waiting a few years, maybe even decades, they’ll move you up into an office? Honestly, is that your goal now? Is that what you want to be your goal? That maybe, one day, you might have your own private window in an office building?"
"Yeah. But it’ll be my own office and it’ll have a helluva great view!"
"Come on, man. I’m being serious."
"So am I! What’s your goal then, Paul? Huh? Is it the same as mine was last year? Nothing? Is that it? Well, at least getting an office job – entering the corporate world – will give me some sort of goal. Something to aim for... Even if it is only an office room with a nice view."
"That’s bullshit. I have goals."
"Yeah? Like what?"
"Well, you know... Enjoy life and live it to the fullest."
Mike just stared at me for a few seconds. "Are you serious? You must be joking, dude. That’s not a goal. What’s that? How can you accomplish ‘enjoy life’ and ‘live to the fullest’? And even if you could, you think you’d actually realize it when you did? Look, I thought the same way when we left Amsterdam. Who needs this bureaucratic business bullshit that makes the world economy go round, right? But when I graduated and started looking for work to pay off my college loans, I realized I didn’t like what was happening. Looking for crappy service sector jobs with a degree in Liberal Arts – waiter, barman, you name it – in order to pay off my bills. And, worst of all, STILL having to ask my parents occasionally for money." Mike took a long sip of beer and laughed, "How do you think I could afford this trip?! ...No way, dude. If I’m gonna get a crappy job, I might as well get paid well for doing it. And at least it’ll give me some goal, some purpose in life – even if it is something as shitty as my own private office."
"Listen man," I took the last drag from my cigarette and snuffed it. "If those are the only true goals life has to offer, than I’m more than happy having no goals at all."
"Whatever, dude. If that’s the way you feel, more power to you. It’s just that I know I can’t do it. I can’t go wandering through life with no aim. I can’t – at least not any more. I spent the last few months trying to figure out where I’d be in twenty to thirty years. After I went back home and graduated, that’s all I did all day. And then it hit me. Like some stank-ass pile of shit, it smacked me in the face..."
"Nice analogy," I interrupted.
"That was a simile, dude. But thanks anyway... Where was I? Oh yeah, so it hit me. I have to get a job, working fixed hours five days a week, and being content to only have the weekends for myself – at least until I finally get married and then don’t even have those two days. I mean, that’s the real world. This is the real world. It’s something that has to be done and will, inevitably, happen... no matter how hard one fights against it. So, I figured, why not make a shitload of cash in the process?"
We ordered another pint of beer and I continued, "Come on, man... It’s not inevitable. Nothing is! Look at me! Living here in Prague and never even having to think about this shit you’re talking about. You wanna know what my biggest problem is? My biggest source of stress? Well, for the past six months, the only thing I’ve ever had to worry about is whether a ticket inspector is going to stop me on the Metro, bus, or tram. That’s it man! Fucking ticket inspectors! The rest of the time I just sit back, relax, and enjoy whatever new adventures life throws my way!"
"Yeah, maybe." The beers arrived. Mike and I lifted our glasses and nazdravíed each other. I had taught him the custom earlier that day. "But I can’t do this shit. What you’re doing."
"What do you mean?"
"Dude. You know what I mean. Just packing my shit and leaving Philly? I have obligations. I have things tying me down there. I mean, what about work, my friends, my family. And that’s not even the tough part. I mean, how the fuck can I ever move to another country without any plans? I have no idea how you did it. You didn’t have any work lined up. No cash. Nowhere to live. Hell, you didn’t even speak a word of the language!"
"Still hardly can! I mean, well, yeah... Of course it was difficult at first but I..."
"Difficult? Difficult! That’s an understatement." Mike sighed heavily, "Fuck, dude. If that’s your advice to me – to do what you did – then keep it for yourself. I can’t handle it. It’s not even an option."
"But why not? Mike! Come on! I know you. If I can do it, so can you! So can anyone. It’s not that difficult. All you need is some courage. Some balls."
"Jesus! This is beyond balls! We’re talking insanity."
"Hey, I did it!"
"Yeah, yeah. Sure. But don’t expect others to. Just don’t."
Mike and I sat there in silence for a few minutes, just sipping our beer, smoking another cigarette, and listening to the music.
"Pink Floyd, man," I interrupted the speechlessness.
"What?"
"Pink Floyd, man. Pink Floyd."
"What are you talking about? The song that’s playing now?" Mike paused and listened. "This is the Stones, dude."
"No, no, man. Not this song. Pink Floyd. The Machine. They’re always talking about the Machine. And I started thinking about Wish You Were Here."
"Paul? What the fuck are you talking about? What does that have to do with anything?"
"Pink Floyd. Wish You Were Here. ‘Did you exchange a walk-on part in the war, for a lead-role in the cage?’ You know, that’s my favorite lyric of all time."
"Ah, fuck. Is that what you’re still going on about? I’m getting tired of this conversation."
"Nothing to get tired of. Just one last thing though, make sure you read that poem back in my room when we go home. The one on my door."
"Why? Who is it?"
"Frost."
"Yeah, yeah," Mike sighed. "Alright."
We sat there in silence for another minute or so until three girls entered the pub and walked by us. They were all tall, slim, and dressed to kill. Mike’s eyes and mine followed them until they disappeared into the backroom.
"Jesus!" Mike exclaimed." These Czech broads got it goin’ ON!"
"Oh yeah! This country is full of hotties."
"Goddamn, you can say that again. One question then, Paul... Why the hell am I stuck here looking at only your ugly mug? Don’t you know any Czech girls?"
"Ha ha ha! Yeah man, of course. I teach them! Hot as hell... I can’t even concentrate on class sometimes!"
"Alright then, looks like we have a solution. Invite them out for a drink this week and we’ll see what we can do!"
I talked to Eva the next morning after class and asked her if she was free Friday night. She said she was and that she would love to join me and Mike. She even promised to bring a couple of female friends along. I went back home to the Dum and told Mike. He was ecstatic.
Later on that Tuesday, I took Mike back to the city center and showed him what sights we had missed the previous day. Unfortunately though, I had a night class that day. Mike said he didn’t mind if I left him on his own. He’d just walk around some more, take some picture, and then maybe grab some dinner somewhere. In fact, he said, I didn’t even have to come meet him after I was done teaching. He just dangled the spare key I had given him in front of my face and told me that he would meet me back at the Dum. He’d find his way there, he assured me, eventually – even if it was a bit of a complicated journey. Little did I realize that ‘eventually’ meant in three days.
Mike called me the next morning on my cell phone and told me what had happened. A Czech girl at a club he had wandered into. The bastard! I had been in the country for half a year without any luck. It took Mike two days. With jetlag nonetheless. But then again, he had always had a way with women. I was sure he had a girl waiting for him in Philly too, but that didn’t bother Mike. The more the merrier. I, on the other hand, was dying a slow and horny death in the confines of my communist Dum housing, with nothing but the monthly porn-mag LEO to ease my suffering.
Mike told me that he would probably be spending the next few days with this new girl but, not to worry, we would meet up on Friday evening and still go out with Eva and her friends that night just as we had planned.
He kept his word and met me and Luke and Char (I also invited them out that night) on Friday at Václavské náměstí. Eva would be waiting for us at a nearby bar so we made our way there together.
"So, y’all are friends from Philly, huh?" Luke asked.
"Yeah, Paul and I have known each other since... Hey Paul, how long have we known each other?"
"Fuck... I don’t know. Forever. Since we were kids. Mike and I grew up in the same neighborhood."
"Aha."
"And you guys? How do you know him?"
"Well, Luke lived with him in college for a year or two and then I started datin’ Luke. Then it just happened, outta the blue, that we ran inta each other here in Prague not too long ago," Char replied in her charming Georgian accent.
"What? You guys live here too? Or are you just visiting?"
"Naw. We moved down here a couple of months ago. Don’t know how long we’ll stay, but we’re livin’ here now!"
"Wow, that’s incredible! I thought only you had the balls to do something crazy like this. Just get up and go," Mike told me.
"See man. It’s exactly what I said – anybody can do it." We turned off the square onto a small cobblestone street. "But enough of this. So tell me, man. Where have you disappeared to these past few days? Who’s this chick you met?"
Mike sighed with a smile and took out a cigarette, "Jana... What a sweet, sexy find. I can’t believe it. We just ran into each other, started talking at the club, and – before I knew it – that was it!"
"You can’t believe it! How about me? I’ve been here for half a year with no luck and you find a girl after only two days!"
"I guess that means still no luck with Eva, huh Paul?" Luke chimed in.
I gave him a bitter look and turned to Mike again. "So, where’s Jana tonight? Why didn’t you bring her out?"
"Ah, it’s better this way, dude. Neither of us needs to get too attached. I’m gonna be gone the day after tomorrow and she’s goin’ back to her boyfriend and normal life here in Prague."
"She has a boyfriend?" Luke asked.
Mike winked at us all, stroked his moustache, and continued, "What can I say? When you got it, you got it!"
I didn’t know what the ‘it’ Mike was talking about was, but I desperately needed to get some.
"Besides," he went on, "we had our fun for the last few days. I actually told her my plane was leaving tonight so we already said goodbye and all that."
"Incredible..." I paused in front of a smoky doorway, "So, this is the place where we’re meeting Eva and her friends."
I walked in first and heard Mike talking to Luke behind me.
"Who’s this Eva chick anyway?"
"Oh, it’s one of Paul’s students. He’s been tryin’ to bag her forever but no luck yet."
"Poor bastard."
Pop music was coming through the speakers as I entered through the door. Eva caught my eye. She was sitting towards the back with two friends and waving at us. I went over and introduced myself to the girls. They looked familiar as I vaguely remembered them from Eva’s birthday party. Pavla had short black hair styled with precision and mousse. Magda had blonde hair a shade darker than Eva’s and a bit longer. They both had piercing blue eyes, stunningly gorgeous faces, and incredible bodies. Definitely the kind of girls I imagined Eva would have as friends. They stood up from their seats, leaned over, kissed me hello on the lips, and waited to be introduced to the others. Eva also stood up, leaned over, and pecked me on the cheek. Whatthefuck began to descend over my countenance when I realized that the others were still waiting to be introduced.
"So, this is Char and Luke. Eva, I think you may have met them before."
"Yes, at birthday party of Paul," She leaned over and kissed Char gently on the cheek and Luke on the lips.
"And this is my good friend Mike." Mike went around the table and gave each of the three girls a nice little wet smooch on the lips. By the time he was done, a look of pure amazement had taken over his entire face.
"So, let’s sit down, shall we?"
Eva made room on the bench where she was sitting for me while Char, Luke, and Mike pulled up some extra chairs.
"You are Paul friend from Philadelphia, yes? He tells me about you."
"Yeah, yeah. We’ve known each other for a long time," Mike spoke as his jaw still hung half-open with shock.
"Yes, he said this." Eva’s friends said something to her in Czech. Apparently, they didn’t speak any English. All three giggled. "So," Eva started again, "How long in Prague?"
"How long have I been here?"
"Maybe. When do you leave?"
"Oh, I’m headin’ back to Philly on Sunday."
"Only? Sunday. Is very short."
"Yeah, well I have stuff to take care of. You know. Work and all that."
"Ah, yes. And what work you do? You are driving the lorries?"
"What?"
"Lorries... or, ehm... Trucks. You are driving trucks?"
"Well, no. Why do you say that?"
"Moustache you have. Is normal for truck driving, no? Always in American films peoples with this moustache are driving trucks."
Luke, Char, and I all burst out in laughter. "Dude!" I interrupted, "She’s right! Only truck drivers – those big eighteen wheel motherfuckers – have your moustache! Style my ass!"
"Yes, it is true? You are driving trucks?"
"No, no, no. I don’t drive a truck. I just have a kick-ass moustache," he replied as he stroked it with confidence and winked at the girls.
"I don’t understand... I will go get drinks. What do you want? Beer?" Eva took our order, got up, and went to the bar.
"Dude," Mike leaned over to me. "Those chicks just kissed me on the lips."
"Yeah, it’s normal here. Is that why you look so shocked?"
"Partly. Jana kept doing it too, but I wasn’t really sure until now."
"Well, I think it’s a custom that..."
"But," Mike leaned in even closer as he interrupted me. "That Eva girl. Your student... I’ve seen her before."
"What? Really? Where?"
"Trust me, dude. And so have you."
"Of course I have. I’ve been teaching her for the past few months."
"No, no. Before that. Before you even came to this city."
"What the fuck are you talking about, Mike?"
"Amsterdam, dude. Amsterdam. She’s the chick! She’s the one you were staring at that night. She’s the one I thought you followed halfway across Europe!"
"What? What the... But, but... She’s probably never even been to Holland! And besides, I keep telling you, I have no idea who you’re talking about. This whole story about some prostitute in Amsterdam... It never happened, man!"
"Alright, alright maybe. But this chick – this Eva – looks exactly like the girl I remember. The one I thought you left with. And I’m telling you dude – either it’s her, or her fucking twin."
"What? Mike, you’re crazy. You have no idea what you’re..."
"Hold on, hold on." He looked me directly in the eyes and kept his gaze firmly fixed. "Just tell me Paul. Tell me. I won’t judge you. I’m you’re friend, man. I just wanna know if I’m right. Did you follow Eva here from Amsterdam?"
"What? No! Of course not! This is ridiculous!"
"What’s all the commotion about fellas?" Char asked from the other side of the table.
"Nothing, nothing. Mike’s just... acting strange."
Eva returned with the drinks and I got up to help her. Before I knew it, Mike was telling Char and Luke his theory. They had a look of disbelief on their faces and I heard Char remark, "That CAN’T be true!"
Eva and I sat back down on the same bench. We all nazdravíed each other and I soon took out some tobacco and started rolling.
"So," Mike looked at Eva. "This week has been great for me here in the Czech Republic. I love traveling. It’s great. And you, Eva? Have you ever traveled?"
"Yes, of course."
"Oh, that’s nice. To what countries?"
Everyone’s attention at the table, apart from Pavla’s and Magda’s, was now undividedly focused on Eva. "Well, not much countries. Only in Europe. German, Austria, Polan..."
"That’s it?" Mike was relentless.
"Ah yes! Sorry. One more when I was young but forgot... France."
"And that’s it?"
"Yes, yes. Only this."
"Hey man, come on," I pulled him aside. "That’s enough. I told you that you were imagining things."
"She could be lying, Paul. You never know."
"Come on, man. Why would she do that? You’re being ridiculous. For fuck’s sake, she’s only like nineteen or twenty or something."
"Exactly!" his eyes lit up. "Perfect age... And with a bangin’ body like that, I wouldn’t blame her for making that kind of career choice."
"Trust me, Mike. Eva has never been a prostitute – especially one in Amsterdam. Let’s just drop it, okay?"
"Yeah, yeah... Sure. Just one more thing," and with that Mike turned to Eva once more. "Have you ever visited the Anne Frank House?"
"No. Where is this?"
"Sure, sure. Where is it," he replied in a barely audible voice. "And Heineken? You like Heineken? Have you ever been to its brewery?"
"Is disgusting! Heineken... Czech beer is best in world!" and with that, Eva raised her glass and nazdravíed us all again. We clinked our glasses and drank some good ol’ Czech Pilsner. "But what is browry?" she asked Mike innocently when we had all taken our fill.
"Brewery, not browry... Nothing, forget it."
The rest of the evening in the bar was rather uneventful. Mike didn’t bring up anything Dutch again, but he did tell us how, the day before, he had been stopped by a ticket inspector. He had taken my advice, remained calm, and thought of a plausible way out of the tricky situation. He pretended that he couldn’t speak English or any other language known to mankind. Whatever phrases or words the inspector threw his way – French, German, English, Italian, or even Czech – he just kept nodding and smiling amiably. In the end, Mike told us that he gave the plain-clothes inspector a five koruna coin, patted him on the back, said, "Ahh! Homeless!" and simply walked off the tram. The inspector was so embarrassed that Mike, this tourist from some unknown land, had mistaken him for a homeless person, that he didn’t pursue the matter further and made sure to part ways as soon as possible. I congratulated Mike for outwitting an inspector with what must have been the best excuse I had ever heard.
Eva’s friends had to leave at around midnight. They told us that they had to work in the morning, then got up, and went. Luke and Char suggested that the rest of us go somewhere else for a drink after that. They knew of a great little place near their apartment, not too far away. Luke and Char were paying a lot more rent than I was at the Dum but they were therefore blessed with a home in a very convenient central location. Eva decided to join us as well. She felt like another drink and, either way, had nothing to do that Saturday other than sleep in.
The bar they took us to was more of a wine cellar. A quaint little place with large barrels in the back and front. Unfortunately, it closed a mere hour after we arrived. We asked the barman, though, if he could sell us some bottles of wine so that we could take them to Luke and Char’s place down the street. He agreed and, soon, the five of us stepped outdoors with three bottles of wine in our hands.
Then, the strangest thing happened. We were walking through a small local park on our way to the apartment, when we met a group of young Russians sitting on a bench and playing the guitar. They called us over (Eva was hesitant but, in the end, agreed to accompany us) and, before we knew it, we were all sitting together – singing and dancing and drinking what wine we had and what beer and vodka they had. All of the Russians, there were three boys and two girls, were university students in Prague. We had a great time for the next hour or so – just sitting there in the lovely park singing, drinking, and talking with what seemed to be the friendliest people on the planet.
Then I made a mistake. I was talking with one of the boys and he asked me whether I liked Russian vodka after he had offered me his bottle and I had downed some. I smacked my lips, washed it down with some wine, and said that it was good, but I had heard that the best vodka in the world was from Finland. My new friend’s face went cold. Finnish vodka was shit, he kept telling me. Over and over again. No vodka was better than the Russian stuff. Then he spat in my face and unexpectedly punched me in the stomach. Mike jumped in and the little Russian fucker connected a fist with his eye. Fortunately, the other two Russians had managed to take a hold of their friend before he was able to throw any more punches. They apologized for their friend, who kept on raving about Russian and Finnish vodka even while in the firm grasp of others, and told us it would probably be best if we parted ways. They didn’t want anymore problems, and neither did we.
We eventually made it to Luke and Char’s place, sat down on their sofa, popped open the last bottle of wine, and went to work on it. Char got some ice for Mike’s eye which, even though only fifteen minutes had passed, was already starting to change color. Incredible, Mike bragged. He had come to Prague for a week, got laid within two days, and would be returning home with a black eye.
None of us really felt like drinking that much more that night. It was three o’clock, we had been through a lot, and were all exhausted. Luke and Char said we could sleep at their place if we wanted and we agreed. One of the couches in the living room changed into a bed for two and the sofa was big enough to accommodate one person. Char gave us some sheets, told Mike to sleep on the sofa and, after winking at me, said Eva and I could sleep on the fold-out. I was ecstatic. Even after the fight with that Russian and the punch in the stomach, which still hurt, I would now be sleeping in the same bed with my little Czech flower. Eva smiled at me when Char made the suggestion and said that she didn’t mind. She turned to me and kept smiling. She didn’t mind?! Oh the things I would do! Eros, who I thought had at least temporarily disappeared, took control once again and at last, I knew it, the Řepy magic that Pavel had shown me so long ago would finally have a chance to show its might.
While we were getting ready for bed, Mike pulled me aside. "Here’s your chance, Paul! When you put the moves on Eva and want me to leave the room, just tell me."
"OK, okay. My god. I can’t believe this is happening tonight. My God... So, why don’t we... I know. If I say, ‘Man! It’s hot in here!’ why don’t you agree with me, then say that you’re going for a short walk around the block or something, okay?"
Mike agreed. I couldn’t wait. I went to the bathroom, washed my face, and used so much of Luke’s mouthwash that I practically swallowed the stuff. Then I went to the living room. Mike was lying on his sofa and Eva was lying on her back towards the opposite edge of the bed. I lied down next to her, Char wished us good night, then closed the door and switched off the lights.
I worked my way closer to Eva. She didn’t move.
"It’s cold in here, Eva, isn’t it?" as I put my arm around her waist and waited for a response.
Nothing. But I could hear Mike sit up on his sofa behind us, "Alright then. That was fast. But I agree. It’s very hot in here. Well, I’m going for a short walk around the block, ok?"
I turned around and tried to make out his shape in the darkness, "I said it’s cold in here, numb-nuts. Not that it’s hot."
"Right, right. Sorry. Screw it. I’m going to sleep," And with that Mike lied back down. He was purring lightly within the next five minutes.
I rolled back around in Eva’s direction and slowly inched my way closer once again. She didn’t move. I again put my arm around her and gradually cuddled up next to her. She didn’t say a word. I casually put my face closer to her neck, breathed in her sweet scent, thought of what was to come, and kissed her below her ear. She didn’t budge. She didn’t speak. She didn’t do anything. Eva just lied there. In that same exact, cold, vertical position. I was getting nowhere. I lifted my head and peered through the darkness at her face. Her beautiful eyes were shut and she was breathing calmly through her nose. I couldn’t try to kiss her, I thought. She wasn’t even looking at me. She was pretending to be asleep. I lied back down and, with my arm around her waist, began to gently, sensuously rub her stomach. Still nothing. Her arms were like two heavy logs by her side. She wasn’t reacting at all. I waited there, with my arm around her, for some sort of reaction. Fifteen. Twenty. Thirty minutes. And still there was no response from her frigid body.
"Fuck this," I whispered and rolled over in the other direction, with my back to the girl that Eros had chosen for me, and soon fell asleep to the muffled sound of Mike’s rhythmic snores.
I briefly woke up as the sun started rising, realized that I was still in bed with my beautiful Czech, and rolled around to see her. Incredible! She was still asleep in the same exact position! She hadn’t moved at all during the night.
"Eva," I whispered as quietly as I could in order to test her state.
"Yes?" she replied immediately, obviously not asleep.
"Are you comfortable?" I whispered again.
"Yes," she calmly replied.
"Well how the FUCK can you be?! You’ve been sleeping in the same GODDAMN position all FUCKING night!!!" I exploded. Not only did I wake up Mike with that little comment, but Char and Luke in the other room as well.
posted by G.C. PHILO at 1:33 AM
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