Isn’t this illegal? …Except for France and here.

I went to an embassy party last week held by the Scandinavian and Baltic embassies. It was on a Monday. It was very fancy. I got to act like a real person and everything.

4:30: Meet girlfriend at her office in a suit. Look baller. Walk to the museum the event is being held at. It’s along the Vltava River in Prague. We’re early so we grab a beer across the park. Meet friends and go inside. Shake hands with many ambassadors on the way in. Get handed champagne and appetizers immediately. Soon find the scotch table. #3: Drink, eat, socialize with important people, and be cheerful. Drink more scotch. Each embassy has a table set up for food, so we eat great Lithuanian deserts, savory salmon from somewhere, dynamite Swedish meatballs, and free Finlandia vodka service. Go upstairs and enjoy the amazing view of Charles Bridge on one side and the Prague Castle on the other. Speak about living in Finland with a few Finns. Do more of #3. Split at sundown. Go for another beer with interns from the Finnish and Dutch embassies. See a painting of a stoned Grover on a scooter and think of an old friend of mine. The Dutch Patrick Bateman sitting next to me creeps me out a bit. We each pick up one more round from the potraviny across the road and crash. Go to work hungover for the first time in a long time. Student shows up late, hungover also. What’s that old expression: Life imitates other people’s lives. Something like that. Good party.

Old Czech theatres – where you can sit up top in the balcony and drink a beer. When it’s done you head to the lobby to pick up another one. The lobby doesn’t sell popcorn and snacks, but coffee, liquor, and beer. There is a sexy lady DJ in the corner spinning ambient tunes and the second floor is filled with smoke and laughter. There’s a crowd of Czechs not there to see a film tonight, but just to hang out and play checkers, dick around on Macbooks, read, and have a few drinks with friends. Back in the theatre now. It looks like something from a disappeared era. The seats aren’t stadium arranged. You can drink a draft. You can’t smoke since it would fuck up the projection, but otherwise anything’s fair game. There are large pillars on either side of the aisles and the theatre just looks like it’s seen more than I could fathom. To say that this place has a soul would be an understatement. I can’t honestly recall the last time I sat in a cinema where this was the truth. We watch a Coen brothers flick with friends and head across the street for four rounds when it’s over. I could go there again in a heartbeat. That’s how I want to watch a movie.

There’s a dog that chills out at the window across the street. At least once a day I see him sitting there, elbows on the windowsill, checking out the action on the street below. He spends his time people watching, spying on the trams from above as they zoom by, and taking in the sight of Czechs going about their busy days. Like the golden retriever across the street, I too sit with my elbows on the windowsill and check out the action on the street below. Sometimes he looks at me and we’ll exchange a nod of recognition, other times we pretend not to see each other and there is no nod exchanged. He thinks he’s people, I’m sure I am. Prague is a city full of beautiful women – this is true – but it’s also a city full of ridiculously friendly dogs.

Sup bro?

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