EX-PAT

The good guest.

After staying in my bed for two whole days, I got tired of lying down and headed out with the roommates - Julia + Ashley Mills to escape the rain and cold in Bohemia Bagel. Deliciously American. Also did a bit of shopping (you can’t blame me! It was H&M and Topshop) and then went to eat dinner at this very hidden away, secret, castle dungeon-y type place. It was very Czech, and they spoke little English. We sat down in this round, wooden booth whose benches were covered in sheep fur (?), and when the waitress brought out the menus, items were written on parchment and bound in something I imaging was calfskin. There were lanterns with candles hanging over our heads, a candle at the table — no light bulbs. But it wasn’t touristy at all — it felt like this place had been operating the same way for hundreds of years. Maybe two hundred years ago, patrons needed a password to enter. Anyway, we didn’t need a password in 2009, but we did, apparently, need to know how to keep our cool when it came to one very old, very drunk man.

After a delicious all-vegetatian dinner, we were talking at the table when Kendra suddenly screams (very loudly) and jumps toward Ashley. I look up, and there is a bald man standing there, leaning against the pole and staring off drunkenly into the middle distance. The man doesn’t say anything, but after standing there for about a minute he sits down in Kendra’s recently vacated seat and began to lean back. Now, this would be perfectly acceptable, I think, in Czechland, had there been a wall behind him. But as it was, there wasn’t, and humpty dumpty fell about four feet from his perch onto his back. I screamed, everyone in there who was American screamed — so only the four of us — and the Czechs all looked at him. Is this normal here? It took a while and two begrudgingly helpful men to pick him up and put him back in our booth. He nursed his head, the waitress brought him some water, and we proceeded to have a nice Czechlish chat. Actually, it wasn’t that nice, since if he was speaking any language at all it was completely incomprehensible to us. But he was entertaining. He motioned for A. Mills to take a seat — she was still standing, as all of us had kind of scooted out of the booth — and, after realizing he wasn’t telling her to leave, she did. I think we realized he was completely harmless — he can’t even sit up straight — but just in case I moved a knife away from him, pretending to re-arrange the salt and pepper and utensils. Then he posed for the camera (maybe I will post a picture later) and offered me some of his water. I declined each time. After what might have been half an hour, the chef convinced his old man Czech friends, who were sitting in the table behind us, to come and collect their friend. They were slightly less drunk than he was, but not by much, and it took some effort to get him to go back.

Dana, who has been teaching us the social ways of the Czechs, said it is common for someone to come over to your table, if there aren’t other tables, and ask to sit there. They will say thank you, and when your food comes they will say bon appetit, but other than that they won’t talk. This proved true — humpty didn’t talk, he mumbled, and for all we know he did ask if he could sit down. Or maybe he just took Kendra’s reaction as one of enthusiasm and hurried to fill her vacant seat to be a good guest. At any rate, we laughed for the rest of the night. And I think we’ll go back. Maybe a bit earlier, this time, so if we meet our friend again he might not wander, like a moth, over to our table.