| After salmon and backgammon at the
PI I was hankering
for more conversation but Sarah
wanted to sew. Sitting on the toilet
I was about to feel sorry for myself when
Radek the Czech I'd met at
UJD koncert called to arrange a swap of language
lessons. I left a message for Elenka
to join us at the
Buck where we
got the corner table and discussed
Karel Kryl,
Plastic People of the Universe, and the
not-quite-rightness of imported
Pilsener
Urquell. Dobrou noc we said when she left and talked about carpentry,
welding, and Radek's life's dream:
keeping
honeybees. Jeste jednou? (The eternal Czech question--"One more?"
The answer is always, "Of course!") Pouring another chipped pitcher of
Rainier,
lighting blue American
Spirits, we're joined by a professional mushroom picker from
Prague who'd overheard our conversation as scratchy
Herb Alpert lp spun on the bar's turntable.
2 minutes to 2, last call, "Now get the fuck out!" the bartender yells as
the lights go down. Back home over
Jaegermeister and a fire we talked till 4:30
about Czech conscription, Canadian customs, and the
Bush coup d'etat, no doubt influenced
by Kryl CD's dated politix until
Hana Hegerova came on
and we stopped being so indignant, ate some crackers, and split up, happy
to have shared our common
tongue. |
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