I’m in a bar with free Internet access. I don’t know what I’m paying for beers right now and I don’t want to know. It’s not important. If only the %(^%*&^$ at the next table would stop smoking I’d be a happy, happy man.
[moved to a different table next to an outlet]
But here I am. Connected. On the air. Reaching out to my media empire, which yearns for me. Or something.
There are even pretty girls here, but at this moment every single one of them that I can see from where I sit is smoking. This is becoming increasingly irritating as I live down the remains of a head cold. There’s good ventilation here, but it only goes so far. Another very attractive woman just came in, and stopped at the bar for an ashtray on the way to her table.
The other day fuego, MaK, and I were in a restaurant for a late brunch, and we had a most pleasant time. On the way out we paused to speak to a friend of fuego’s and I was introduced. It came out that I was learning czech, and the friend said, “He needs a czech girlfriend, then,” or something like that. My response was “No, that would be too much work,” but nobody was paying any attention to me. But it goes beyond the simple fact I don’t need another project (and having a girlfriend is work — don’t let anyone tell you otherwise). On top of that, every girl here smokes.
Two more women just arrived and sat at the table just upwind of me. The bartender recognized them and brought over an ashtray. In my field of vision right now, there are nine women and no men except the bartenders. Damn near paradise, if my sinuses weren’t cowering behind my occipital lobe for shelter.
All right. enough bitching about the smoke. This is Europe, after all, and except for Slovakia it’s a smoky place. I knew that when I signed up. I’m told that Europe is following California’s lead and will be banning smoking in public places, leaving my heart divided. I dislike banning things, and I consistently vote against banning things, even smoking in public, but I sure do like life better when no one is puffing up nearby.
All right. NOW there’s been enough bitching about the smoke. I will not bitch about it any more. I will squint my eyes and try to see what I am writing though the haze and write about something besides the smoke. After all, this episode is all about how great it is to be here.
Here, in fact, is a mall. Glossy, glitzy, and modern, there is no czech character here. I first went to a cafe nearby where I was told they had free internet. A lie. A BIG, FAT, LIE. (Ano, ještÄ› jedno, prosÃm.) I had a feeling about this place though. [There is now a male patron in my field of vision, and his girlfriend just lit up. D’oh! bitching again!] Outside in the mall proper an authoritative voice just came booming through the PA system. I have no idea what he said, and it couldn’t have been too important because everyone else ignored it, too. But whoever was speaking certainly felt important.
“Blah, blah, blablablah, Blah.” It’s the same in any language.
I think that’s where I’ll leave this episode, which also can be summarized as “Blah, blah, blablablah, Blah.”