Volume 8: Pete in Prague - Czech Republic biggest beer drinking country per capita on earth. Hello!
Day 1 – London to Prague
The decision to visit Prague was made relatively late. The company I was working for had decided to not extend my contract, despite promising me an extra 6 months, and had given me a months notice. With me needing to give my real estate agent 2 months notice to vacate my apartment, in what had initially seemed like an annoying situation where I was paying for a month’s rent with no income actually had turned out to be a serendipitous opportunity to base myself in London whilst bouncing into European cities. A week earlier I’d been to Dublin. On return from Dublin I wasn’t quite sure whether I would next head to Berlin or Prague. Berlin was a party town and being German meant the beer would be flowing meaning the smiles would be appearing on my face. Prague too was a party town, but all I knew about it was that it had been cheap until the British stag party industry discovered it driving prices up somewhat, but still relatively cheap. It was only when I read in my Lonely Planet guide that I discovered the Czech Republic was the biggest beer drinking country per capita; the Czechs had truly captured my heart and I must visit it, much like a Muslim should at least visit Mecca once before dying. Plus I’d already been to Germany, so a new passport stamp was an added bonus.
Of course, to get from London to Prague in a timely manner its best to fly (until the circus can develop a cannon that is powerful enough to shoot a human 800 miles and land them safely in a net at the destination). With no current income I had potentially flirted with the idea of flying a Central European budget airline that I’d never really heard of called SkyEurope Airlines. SkyEurope Airlines was based in Slovakia, and for me growing up in the 1980s Slovakia used to be part of Czechoslovakia which was under communist Soviet rule. Communism struggled to bring bread to its people that wasn’t at least 2 days old, so I wasn’t overly confident they’d be able to bring people via an airplane in a safe manner. Sure, it had been 20 years since the Velvet Revolution liberated the Czechoslovakians from communist rule, but as a general rule I only gain trust in a free market economy after 25 years. That lack of trust would soon prove to be vindicated as I went to Google to do research on SkyEurope Airlines. SkyEurope Airlines had been granted creditor protection on 22nd June 2009, I was intending to land in Prague on 2nd July 2009. Sometimes you go on holidays and you remark “oh, I wish I never had to comeback”, that would have been a real possibility if I’d chosen to fly an airline that had just got protection from creditors as its only a short time before they file for bankruptcy and ground flights (in SkyEurope Airlines’ case that application for Bankruptcy turned out to be August 31).
So with SkyEurope Airlines ruled out, I flew British Airways. British Airways truly challenges Qantas for having the oldest flight attendants of any airline. It’s wonderful that they have such loyalty to the company (judging by their age some had stuck tough with the company during the 1929 depression) but the issue I have with flight attendants that are older than manned flight is that they make the incorrect assumption that slapping on 3 inches of makeup on your face will conceal wrinkles. It doesn’t; it just magnifies them.
Now, I don’t traditionally plan a lot when I travel as the most memorable moments happen by accident. I find that planning leads to expectation, expectation leads to disappointment. All I like to have planned is how to get to and from the airport, and my accommodation booked. Anything outside of that is a welcome surprise. Anything that impacts those few plans is NOT a welcome surprise. My Lonely Planet guide had told me if I caught the Airport Express bus it would drop me off at Praha-Holešovice train station, from there it was about a 5 or 6 block walk to my hostel on Přίstavni street. I’d chosen the Airport Express bus as my Lonely Planet guide had suggested if I took bus 119 a local would probably liberate me of my wallet (I may looked weighed down by my backpack, but you are not doing me a favour by lightening my pockets). The guide had also said avoid taxi’s as you’ll get ripped off and you probably want to avoid the metro because a local will notice your luggage, and therefore, that you’re a tourist and once again offer to help you out by lightening your load by emptying your pockets. I was beginning to think the author of this guide had been robbed everyday they’d been in Prague so I was hoping to reach the hostel before dark to keep intact my ass virginity.
I think the first time I panicked a bit was when it took me 20 minutes to find the Airport Express bus stop at the airport. 12 point font is great if you’re writing a novel, not so much if you’re writing a signpost to indicate the Airport Express pickup point. I think the second time I panicked a bit was when the bus pulled in and on the side a LED scrolling display listed 3 drop off points. Praha-Holešovice station was not one of them. I wasn’t completely freaking out (yet) as I’d studied the metro map before arriving and noticed Hlvani nădražί, a destination listed on LED display. I dived into my backpack with the urgency of a bomb squad specialist who has 5 seconds to cut either the red or blue wire (there was no way I was missing this bus after waiting 20 minutes to find it, providing it proved to be the correct bus), to find my metro map and confirmed my initial hunch about Hlvani nădražί. It was on the red line (so just like defusing a bomb and not sure which wire, always chose red), just 3 stops from Nădražί Holešovice which was actually closer to my hostel. Crisis averted…until the next crisis. I think the third time I panicked was trying to find the actual metro stop for Hlvani nădražί station. Hlvani nădražί forms part of Praha hlvani nădražί major train station which has connections to places like Germany and Belgium. I had no trouble finding platforms with trains leaving the Czech Republic, but I was keen to remain in the country having just arrived an hour or so earlier. I must have walked for 20 minutes before I finally saw a large M to indicate the metro. The excitement and joy of finding that M was what a morbidly obese person must have when they find a large M to indicate a McDonalds. I think the fourth time I panicked was when I was trying to figure out the ticket machine. By now I was quite flustered and not thinking straight. All the writing on the ticketing machine was in Czech, with the frustration exasperated when I pushed a button that said push for English. All that essentially did was change the small 3 by 1 inch LED display on the ticketing machine from Czech to a message in English informing me I’d pressed a button for English. I know this! I just pushed the friggin button! How about providing some actual information on how to purchase a ticket?!? I’d noticed a button to purchase a “24” ticket. Still not thinking straight I initially said out loud “why the f#$k would you sell a ticket that lasts 24 days?”. After a deep breath, my brain finally computed that there are 24 hours in a day and this must therefore be a daily ticket. I purchased the ticket after finally figuring out the machine, with the kind of pride a British code breaker must have had during WWII when cracking the German enigma codes. In just 3 short stops I arrived at Nădražί Holešovice station. I think the fifth time I panicked was when I managed to leave the station at the opposite end I had intended to, and therefore, onto the wrong street. All I needed was a street name. I had my map, as soon as I could find a street name, I’d have my bearings and would soon be on my way to the hostel. Given the events that had transpired since arriving in Prague, I don’t know why I was so surprised to not be able to find 1 street sign. Not a 1! By now it was getting dark. I’m not a deeply religious man, but I know most religions frown on sodomy, so given my ass virginity may have been at risk, the gods finally found me my precious street sign (I almost was down on my knees asking the lord for a sign)…after making me walk 20 minutes and a full circle to the other exit of Nădražί Holešovice station, the one I had originally intended to use. This journey was taking on biblical type proportions, but instead of things happening over periods of “40”, like 40 days and nights or 40 years, they were happening in 20 minute periods; 20 minutes to find the Airport Express bus, 20 minutes to find the metro station, 20 minutes to find a street sign.
The rush to beat the diminishing light to my hostel only increased as there were 4 or 5 middle aged drunks hanging out at the station, with 1 shirtless bearded man passed out on a bench surrounded by beer cans to help remind you how he’d reached his passed out state.
I think the first time I’d stopped panicking is when I checked into the hostel. After checking in, I went and got something to eat before returning back to the hostel for a well earned sleep.
Day 2 – Nice day for a spot of gardening. Namely beer gardening
I awoke fresh, free from panic, with my ass virginity still intact and ready to discover Prague. As I opened the blinds to let in some light I was greeted by a Czech lass sunbathing in a bikini on “a balcony” (was more like a window sill) in a distant apartment. Good start to the day. I left the hostel before 9am intent on walking for the next 12 hours as is always the case when I arrive in a new city, excited and stimulated like a kid with Attention Deficit Disorder whose just ate a 1kg bag of sugar. The plan of attack was to walk through Letná Gardens (or if you want to sound like a local Letenské sady) which would eventually lead me to Prague Castle (Pražký hrad). The gods had tested me yesterday, but were now rewarding me today by steering me to one of the greatest beer gardens on earth with the best views overlooking the city. It felt like it was about 27 degrees when I arrived, with 90% humidity. The heat coupled with the elevated walk up the hill to get to the beer garden left me figuring I must have been walking for hours and surely it was noon by now. When I looked at my phone and saw it was only 10:30am I was left with a question that many travellers have been asking since Marco Polo’s days; is it too early to have a beer? Like last night I asked god for a sign, an answer if you will, for which he delivered in the form of 3 locals already drinking so I promptly went and purchased a Gambrinus and had 1 of those small moments you have to yourself when travelling where you think “how good is this!” as I drunk that beer enjoying a spectacular view of the city. The view somehow got better as I turned to take in the size of the magnificent beer garden which by now had a woman changing clothes from a bridesmaids outfit to something more casual. As she constantly exposed her g string clad ass (I’m not a pervert, I’m using the George Costanza “she entered my field of vision” defence) I figured this may well have been the greatest start to a day I’ve had in my life; 2 half naked chicks and a beer garden before noon!
I decided 1 beer before noon was fine, but 2 would have led to 3, 3 would have led to 4 and the next thing you know you’re passed out like a fat shirtless beardo at Nădražί Holešovice station, so I was back walking again after just 1 beer. The next discovery was the giant 75 foot tall metronome, erected in 1991 to replace an old 17,000 ton statue of Stalin which was originally erected in 1955, only to be dynamited and removed in 1962 (surely there are easier ways to remove pigeon poo from a statue?). The metronome is supposed to symbolise the struggle against Soviet control, so I’m assuming the Soviet’s were a horrible people whose crimes extended to not being able to hold a beat (in fairness, something a lot of white people struggle to do).
My long walk in the gardens eventually steered me to the Prague Castle that proudly overlooks the city and is now the official residence and office of the president of the Czech Republic. It’s quite a grand series of structures dating back to the 9th century and I believe it is also responsible for the coining of the phrase “they don’t build them like they used to”. I didn’t have all that much local currency on me, but I did have about 50 euro, so when the tourist info woman pulled out a calculator to convert Czech crowns to euros and hit random numbers that somehow converted the cost of hiring an audio tour to be 25€ I thought that seemed excessive. But I’d seen 2 half naked chicks and had a beer in the greatest beer garden all before noon, so I was in a happy place and didn’t question what may well have been the equivalence of digital black magic.
I kicked off the self guided audio tour in St Vitus Cathedral, the church that is most visible from down in the town. I was asked to remove my hat, as a reminder that it’s disrespectful to the church (fiddling with a kid is fine, just make sure you’re not wearing a hat). I listened to about 4 or 5 stories, with 1 from ye olde days about some “dietician” who tried to kill some bloke by boiling a vat of something. When that didn’t kill him, he tried to get a lion to eat him. I know you’re a psychotic killer so you’re thinking isn’t the most sound, but how do you come to the conclusion that trying to get a lion to eat someone is the easiest way to kill them?!? He eventually “came to his senses” and just put him on a stretcher and used the tried and tested manner of torture to do the job. The rest of the audio stories weren’t interesting, so by now I was more focused on trying to get a novelty photo with the audio guide that looked like a 1980s mobile phone with which I would dub the photo “A call from God” as it was taken in a church.
I left the church and wandered the streets inside the castle, with the walls now seemingly only there to protect the great number of ice cream stores and a poncy changing of the guard ceremony. It was as I strolled the streets I realised the vastness of the castle (over 70,000 square metres) and decided to hand my audio guide back as I had intended to walk into town directly from the castle via a different place that I had entered. If I held onto the audio guide any longer it would have meant doubling back a long way or hiring a courier to send it back.
Outside of the castle it was a pleasant stroll down the hill into Malá Strana where I would be greeted by the first of many weird sculptures in Prague; David Černý’s piss sculpture. It’s hard to take the piss out of a sculpture that is already taking a piss. The sculpture is 2 blokes pissing into a pool in the shape of the Czech Republic, except their waists move meaning you can text the sculpture a message and they will piss it out for you. I figured if they would’ve wanted to make the sculpture more realistic the water should run out on the last letter, as I’ve found that to be the case whenever I’ve tried to write something in wee at a urinal in a pub.
From there it was a short stroll to the most famous bridge in Prague; Charles Bridge (Karlův most). It was originally critical to success of Prague as it was the only bridge crossing the Vltava River back in the 14th century, but now in the 21st century only seems critical to people looking to sell sh$%ty merchandise and the only piece of artwork that most people seem to take home from Europe; a poorly drawn caricature of themselves. The bridge was packed with people, with the space even more confined given they were doing construction work on the west end, so I didn’t spend much time there and continued walking on aimlessly into Staré Město as the lightning in the far off sky promised rain, but it was, thankfully, never a promise kept.
Although I had walked aimlessly, the target of my attention had now become the Old Town Square (Staroměstské náměstί). I noticed a large crowd starting to gather around the Astronomical clock, at which time I looked at my phone and realised it was now 4:45pm, so if I hung around for another 15 minutes I would get to see the animated figures on the clock at 5pm. I tell you what, I thought I’d never see a clock lamer than Munich’s Glockenspiel, but these animated figures now own the title for lamest display on a large timepiece. Anytime you walk away from something and think “is that it?” you know it’s been a lame experience (just ask any woman I’ve slept with). At least with the Glockenspiel you could tell the time, with this clock forget about it. There’s a legend that the bloke who created the clock in the 15th century, Jan Růže (also called Hanuš, not sure if the “h” is silent in Czech, if so they must not have liked him), was blinded by Prague Councillors so that he could never repeat his work. I think at the time that was supposed to be a compliment so that Prague would have a 1 of a kind, but in hindsight I think it was more a commentary on how they wanted all future clocks to be built so you could actually read the time off them so served more as a warning to other clockmakers.
I got something to eat and then decided to head back to the hostel to get cleaned up for a pub crawl kicking off tonight at 8:30pm form the Old Town Square. The maze that is Prague’s streets meant I walked 2 metro stations past my intended metro station, and left me thinking how did anyone ever takeover these old cities? You’re armed forces storm the city and then spend the rest of their time holding a map upside down trying to figure out where they are. My long walk took me across many cobblestone streets, where surprisingly I saw no nuns on seatless bicycles.
Back in town at 8:30pm for the pub crawl I got talking to an American chick studying abroad whose name was “Leeny” which I discovered after calling her “Lefty”. I met a Brazilian bloke studying noise and vibration, and all I could think when he said that was “how do you get into that field? Sitting on a park bench 1 day when a fat bloke farted which triggered both a noise and vibration?”. But most amusing to me were a bunch of high school hockey players from the US. They were playing in a tournament, but had decided to spend the night “sampling local culture”. The most talkative was a 6ft 5in 17 year old (I soon nicknamed “North Carolina”) who by the 4th or 5th bar had “sampled a significant amount of local culture”. The pub crawl finished at Karlovy Lázně which dubbed itself “Eastern Europe’s biggest club”. It had 5 levels, all with differently themed rooms, but each sharing the common theme of having toilets flooded by at least 2 inches of water. The club was quite modern, but the concrete stairs that connected each floor were poorly light and what I imagine is a living tribute to Prague’s communist past.
It was about 5am that I decided I was going to wait until the metro opened to get back to the hostel, with the words of the Lonely Planet author who’d been mugged by a taxi driver everyday in Prague still ringing in my ears. I left the club at 6am and was pleasantly surprised to discover the sun was shining. The club was right next to Charles Bridge, which was now vacant of people in complete contrast to yesterday afternoon so I took some photos. I went and touched the St John of Nepomuk statue which according to legend brings good luck and ensures a return to Prague. I only hope my return to Prague is more successful than St John of Nepomuk’s original stay. He was a Czech martyr saint who’d been executed during the reign of Wenceslas IV and thrown from the bridge. Having not being required to be in a position to have to operate heavy equipment today, I’d spent the last 9 hours drinking quite a significant amount of alcohol. Much like consuming a significant amount of alcohol impairs your ability to operate heavy equipment, so too does it impair your ability to find the correct metro station (although in my defence it’s hard enough finding the correct metro station when you’re sober in the maze that is Prague). I got on at Můstek station, somehow had to ability to realise I needed to switch at Florenc, before arriving at Nădražί Holešovice station. I then walked to the hostel, where I discovered after looking at my phone that it was 7:21am. Breakfast started at 7:30am, but by now I was so tired there was no possibility of me staying awake for another 9 minutes so I promptly crashed into bed.
Day 3 – My head hurts, my feet hurt…perhaps another pub crawl will take my mind off the pain
I managed to drag myself out of bed sometime between noon and 1pm. Taking my AGB (After Grog Bog) turned out to be a less than pleasant experience as the blue recycled toilet paper (recycled from glass?) was so rough you could have taken a near finished wooden flute that you’d been making and used the toilet paper to sand it whilst you sat on the crapper.
The plan today was to do as little walking as possible and see Wenceslas Square (Václavské náměstί). Wenceslas Square was located in Nové Město, which appropriately translates into “New Town” given it was founded in 1348, so I caught the train to Muzeum. Wenceslas is the patron saint of the Czech Republic, but must have owed his brother “Boleslav the Cruel“ money as his appropriately named brother was part of the plot that killed Wenceslas in 935. Okay, I may have just made up the thing about owing money, because clearly he would have been called “Boleslav the thrift” if that was true. Whilst Wenceslas was alive he was Duke of Bohemia, but later Holy Roman Emperor Otto I posthumously promoted him to king. Duke’s get a lot of chicks, but King’s get the best, so the real tragedy for Wenceslas was that he was never alive to benefit from that. These were all things that crossed my mind as I sat hung-over on the steps of the Museum gazing at the statue of Wenceslas riding aboard his noble stead, also thinking the square was actually more of a rectangle.
I walked for about an hour or 2, before reminding myself I had no intention of walking today and eventually found myself back in the Old Town Square. By now the rain promised by the last 2 days of lightning was realised, so as I always do when it starts to rain when I’m travelling I headed for a pub. Naturally, the only option to choose when in Prague is an Irish themed pub (I love embracing local culture!) called Caffrey’s so I setup shop having a few beers watching the British Lions versus South Africa rugby match on 1 screen, with the women’s Wimbledon final between the Williams sisters on another. The bar provided table service so I didn’t have to leave my seat, which was great until I ordered my last beer and released I didn’t have enough to tip. I awkwardly handed the barmaid a bunch of loose change hoping that by the time she counted it she would be walking away and not be in a position to give me the stink eye.
With just 4 hours sleep from the night before I had contemplated calling it an early night, but as it was a Saturday night I knew I’d regret having wasted a Saturday night in Prague so I once again joined the same pub crawl from last night, which again went to the same 4 or 5 bars. Leeny was once again on the pub crawl, but she had little time for me as she was trying to pickup 1 of the countless number of Americans studying in Prague. I got talking to a few of them and it seems most of them are law students and apparently the Czech Republic makes for a great place to study law as it’s a relatively new country. My Brazilian noise and vibration mate was also back on the pub crawl, along with countless aussies and American servicemen and servicewomen. There was 1 annoying aussie bloke with the lamest facial hair (we’re talking if he stood next to the bearded lady at the circus, you’d initially only say 1 of them had facial hair) who kept calling be “bra”, which I found to be even more annoying when he hooked up with a hot African American chick I’d been talking to earlier in the night. She was also in the service and the US government had put her up by herself in a 4 bedroom house, so I knew my “bra”, who’d probably been staying in a dingy backpackers, would not need to improvise with the little real estate afforded on his bunk bed with her tonight. Like the night before, I managed to get separated from the main group around 4am at Karlovy Lázně, but for an African American bloke who I’d been talking to earlier in the pub crawl. He was complaining about the poor service he was receiving, which I somehow managed to avoid thinking out aloud “it’s probably because you’re black”, knowing I was not Dave Chapelle, that I was white, and therefore probably couldn’t get away with jokes that involved race with someone I’d known for less than 7 hours.
The last time I looked at my phone was at the metro, at 5am, so I figure I was home before 6am.
Day 4 – So many weird sculptures, so so many…
I awoke some time after noon. My new neighbour, the attractive Czech lass in a bikini, was once sunbaking on her balcony/window sill which helped momentarily distract me from my hangover. She kept me entranced until about 1pm before I finally snapped out of it and realised I probably should go out and see the city again. Today’s main goal was to find the place where the Airport Express bus departed to ensure the panic of day 1 was not repeated tomorrow when I left Prague, whilst once again aiming to do as little walking as possible.
I caught the train to Hlvani nădražί station and managed to find the Airport Express bus pickup spot easily as it was where I remembered it to be when I first arrived. I was somewhat surprised at the ease as I thought my brain may have blocked out the memory due to the panic triggering some sort of Post Traumatic Stress disorder. However, things got weird when a Frenchmen approached me and said “is this Prague?”. Noticing the look on my face of “what the f#$k?!?” he quickly followed up with “sorry, my English not so good” under the impression the confusion was caused by his poor language skills, and not by the fact I couldn’t understand how you could drive into a city and not realise it. He had 2 other male companions travelling in an RV, and they were motioning me to comeback to their RV to prove that Prague didn’t appear on their satnav, but this only triggered the alarms that are set off when someone is trying to breach the security protecting my ass virginity and I politely declined. I’ve seen Silence of the Lambs, where he asks the chick to help move his couch and asks her to get in the van first before bludgeoning her; no way was I about to let 3 Frenchmen make a suit made out of human skin from my skin (although, the joke would have been on them as my freckly skin would make for a rubbish human skin suit).
As it was only 1 stop on the metro to Muzeum and Wenceslas Square, I headed there as I was keen to see Černý’s piss take on the Wenceslas Statue. Černý’s was located in Lucerna Passage (Lucerna pasáž), in a small shopping arcade just off Wenceslas Square that I walked past without noticing the day before. Černý and I imagine would get on famously, as I marvelled at his sculpture of Wenceslas riding the upside down horse. Just the horse upside down, Wenceslas remained upright. Did I mention the horse was dead? People have reminded me the thing they like about me is I see the world through a different set of eyes to most people, something that Černý would certainly be able to relate to.
I walked for a while with no great purpose, somehow once again finding myself in the Old Town Square, before crossing Mánes Bridge (Mánesův most) into Malá Strana, the “Lesser Town” or “Little Quarter”. Although, when you’re as hung-over as I was any walking made it feel like at least ¾. There were only about 5 people on Mánes Bridge, which made for a much more pleasant stroll than the confined spaces of Charles Bridge and it’s hundreds. The universe, sensing my love of weird sculptures and statues, now steered me to Kampa Island (known as “Little Venice”, much like what I called the flooded toilets at Karlovy Lázně) and Černý’s “Babies” sculptures at the Kampa Museum. I’m not entirely sure what a baby on all 4’s with what appears to be a swollen baboons ass for a head is so supposed to represent, but they can also be found on the Zizkov TV Tower in an attempt to distract from the towers ugliness.
I continued my merry stroll to the foot of the Peřtίn hill. I contemplated catching the Peřtίn funicular (you can’t spell funicular without FUN!) to the miniature Eiffel Tower shaped Peřtίn lookout tower (Peřtίn rozhledna) sitting atop the hill, but by now my goal of doing little walking had failed and I figured I must have walked for at least 4 hours without sitting so decided against it and that I should start thinking about heading back to the Old Town Square for a shady place.
As I did I walked past the Memorial to the Victims of Communism (Památnίik obětem komunismu), which as it wasn’t a Černý, turned out to be quite depressing. It essentially depicts a man slowly fading away over 5 separate statues. The statues also show that communism may take your life, your family, your hope, but not your small penis. The plaque lists the atrocities committed under communist rule; 327 shot trying to escape via border, 170,938 driven into exile, 205,846 arrested, 248 executed, 4,500 died in prison. So with such accurate numbers they mustn’t have killed or driven into exile too many accountants or mathematicians. But with such incredible numbers, you would have thought it shouldn’t have taken until 1989 before someone in a Politburo meeting said “gee, we really are a pack of bastards! Perhaps we should stop doing this”.
I crossed over Legion Bridge (Most legii) and had what I thought was lunch, but given it was 5pm it may be considered “dunch” or “linner”; a combination of lunch and dinner given the time.
I headed back to Caffrey’s on the edge of the Old Town Square and sat outside watching the Wimbledon men’s finally featuring Federer and Roddick. By the time I sat down Federer led 2 sets to 1, and I figured he would rap it up quickly in the 4th, so at most I would only be having 2 beers. Things didn’t quite work out that way as the match entered into a marathon 5th set where I asked myself who would blink first; Federer? Roddick? Or my bladder that was now holding 4 pints? It would turn out to be Roddick, losing a classic 16-14 in the final set. Whilst the match transpired, the George and Dragon pub next door were using a different feed to their big screen which provided them with coverage 2 seconds ahead of Caffrey’s, leading George and Dragon patrons to cheer 2 seconds before we saw who won the point. I tell you what; if you’re ever offered the opportunity to see 2 seconds partially into your future, don’t accept it because it’s lame. As Lame as people stupid enough to shout “Go Roddick!” as if TV was a 2 way medium and their voice could travel the 800 miles back to Wimbledon and Roddick could hear them.Content with having watched a classic final, and not urinated in my pants in the process, I was back at the hostel by 9pm for a long sleep.
Day 5 – Of non eventful days that are only included for the sake of completeness
Day 5 was the Felix Unger to Day 1’s Oscar Madison; the complete opposite. Buying a metro ticket was uneventful, the trip on the train was uneventful, and catching the bus was uneventful. The only really frustration came when I landed at Heathrow’s cursed terminal 5. The screens displaying which baggage carrousel to head to for your flight beared no correlation with the carousel luggage was coming off. The luggage system was clearly acting like a flustered tourist in Prague. Head to carousel 5, no go to carousel 3, no wait, try carousel 5. Heathrow staff eventually gave up on the screens and instead directed everyone to a hastily put together whiteboard listing flights and associated baggage carousels. Annoying, but as long as the person who wrote the software for the baggage carousels did not extend their career ambitions into writing the software that operates the autopilot on planes it’s not such a disaster. Finally with bag in hand, I was back on the bus to beautiful Watford.
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