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The Roadtrip Pt II – Damn it feels good to be a gangsta

Ok so sub-line of Pt II should read ‘the day without a gig’ so it might not live up to the heady expectations of the first instalment – already my most read posting, two days after publishing.


Up early and both a little worse for wear. Pringle crumbs everywhere. Is Pringle the singular? No dinner + free beer = this feeling. We figure out that tom tom doesn’t have the Czech Republic. Not a good start but we should be alright…We’re both reasonably intelligent adults…as long as it doesn’t involve technology, we don’t know how to drive that. Shining examples of the IT world we are. Apparently Yoda i am.

Tom Tom does at least get us to Dresden which is a great surprise it’s a very picturesque town, even masked under heavy rainclouds. I was very glad we stopped there, as was Silk once we discovered the Mexican restaurant. Too hot for some Pete? Eye’s bigger than your stomach ay wolfie! This also marked the start of the endless quest and amalgamation of toothpicks. They were like liquid gold…Small wooden stick like representations of liquid gold…not very liquidy at all really…

My personal highlight of Dresden was a video of Silk in some square that we came across, featuring a brief history lesson of the area… “It was fucking annihilated!”

So we continued onto Prague sans tom tom. Up into the hills and we encounter some Snow across the border. Did we have snow tires? Who knows? See the previous day’s discussion on cars. Like we would know?

The effects of the night before were wearing off, however the conversation had been dented somewhat and was more subdued. I did learn about Silk’s awesomeness though. It is apparently effortless and unbridled. He has never been beaten by anyone ever in the history of tennis. I offered to play a few sets with him but was met with bemusement as i paled in comparison to his awesomeness, deemed not at all worthy of the challenge.

I remember hearing something similar about his basketball skills…we don’t talk about that anymore…

20 minutes inside of Prague, busily chatting away – no doubt still about Silk’s unfathomable awesomeness – and i remember it probably would have been an idea to follow the directions we had printed out, considering tom tom now had us driving into the great unknown…like the depths of silk awesomeness. In fact it is between Silk and Ashton Kutcher for the Awesome crown.

Seeing as we were no longer on the right road, thereby nullifying all printed instructions, we had to wing it. About an hour later we arrived at our hotel determined never to have to wing anything ever again. Our hotel was actually a proper hotel this time round and was quite nice. We take the tram into town and try to find a cafe that silk remembers. It turn’s out it had been about 6 years since either me or Silk had been to Prague last, and unfortunately Silk’s awesomeness seemed to be limited to Tennis – sadly not encompassing directions. A few beers, followed by a ‘dance’ and a ‘chat’ and we were ready for the Casino. Some parts just don’t require detailed descriptions i feel.

So ordinarily i would never encourage people to gamble, specially having had a problem with it while i was younger. You try earning $1000 a week and having no expenses and see where your money goes. Well that was me at Uni. I had a full time job while studying full time and living at home, so i had no time to spend my money and nothing to spend it on. Bring on 24 hour licensing and there was always somewhere on my way home to ride the pokies (slots for our American audience). So whilst i didn’t want to encourage Silk by exchanging more money for him, i was not about to let us be intimidated and railroaded off the table. You see the one poker table had a ‘regulars’ feel about it so as soon as silk placed a bet, all other bets were removed and the uncomfortable staring and sniggering ensued. It was 2:30 in the morning when we left, but we were in front, and the punters knew who they were dealing with.

Now we had heard about the Prague taxi drivers, so we had a plan. Apparently they would favour us if we were Slavic. Silk gets on his phone (as opposed to the Serbian finger phone i described to Dan Peters during the post mortem) and speaks Serbian with a lot of ‘Da’ thown in there. Plural of Da? So i ask the taxi driver to take us to the hotel, in my best “i’m so lost while my ‘local’ friend is on the telephone” voice. Silk gets off the phone and says to me, it’s a shame we’ll never know if this worked or not…i have a fair idea.

We’ve gone about two blocks and Silk is pointing to the meter ticking over. I could see it ticking over at 100 crowns a go, roughly €4, but i didn’t seem too concerned. Apparently in my head it was still 6 years ago and i was travelling on the pound where a man could get a beer for 25 pence, unless it was happy hour when it was somewhere closer to 20p. A time when you could beckon a waiter over in a horrible display oh Johnny Western Tourist, then try to buy back his affection by offering him a year’s salary. No. This was extortionate Prague, where a 2.3km taxi ride costs €20. Not bad for a night’s work if you can get it.

Lesson learned, talking into a Serbian finger phone does not work.

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