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| Empty coat rack in a Ruzyne Airport lounge |
I
was sitting in an airport lounge in Terminal 2 of Prague's Ruzyne Airport when
this coat rack caught my eye. It was the second hanger from the left that did
it. I identified with that coat hanger, it pointing one way while all its
companions pointed in another.
That
is pretty much how I feel when I'm traveling. It seems to me as if everyone is
going in the wrong direction. Why, for example, are so many people wearing
clothes with messages? In Prague’s Old Town Square I saw a girl wearing a
T-shirt that said, "I like it like that?" What does that mean? What
does she like? And how does she like it? I dislike being engaged in these
one-way conversations. If I want to read something, I don’t go for a walk. Nowadays
you can't set foot anywhere without being forced to read what people are
wearing.
I
saw a kid in the same square wearing a T-shirt that said "What the
Fuck?" What the f*** was that about? What was on his mind? And why isn't
he keeping it to himself instead of involving me in his angst. Maybe that’s the
point. To involve me.
I
saw someone else wearing a T-shirt that said, "Thank you." Much
easier to take, though I couldn't help wondering "For what?"
There
was a soccer game last night. I think the Czech Republic lost. This morning my
daughter came back from coffee to announce that she had passed a young man
sitting on a corner wearing a big, floppy Mexican style hat.
"So
what?" I asked.
"That
was all he was wearing," she said. "He was stark naked."
Well,
I thought, at least he wasn't sending us all printed messages.
We
rented an apartment in the Jewish Quarter of Prague. I met the woman who lives
above us on the stairs. Her name is Fletcher. She oversaw the refurbishment of
the building. She lives in Prague permanently. She lived in Russia before that.
I asked her what she liked about Prague.
"It’s
Bohemian," she said.
"What
does that mean?" I asked her.
"Relaxed,"
she said.
I
can easily see that. Apparently the cops didn't arrest the naked reveler. They
simply told him to put his clothes on.
Standing
in Old Town Square two days ago, I waited for the clock tower to strike 6pm. I
wasn't alone. About five hundred people were there with me. We were waiting to
see the parade of the apostles through two windows above the clock. They ride
by, turn just as they get to the opening to look down on the crowd below and
then motor on out of the frame. I was standing next to a young woman from
Bangkok who was showing me the photographs she'd taken on her iPad. A young man
came up next to her. She introduced him to me as her tour guide. He said that
he had just come from Phuket.
I
told him that I had been to Phuket and that I had seen the "girly
boys," boys who dress up like women. I told him that in my opinion the
most beautiful women in the world were the girly boys from Phuket.
He
looked uneasy.
"That's
not my style," he said with a gesture resembling putting his finger in his
collar to let the heat out.
I
guess he hadn't gotten the message that Prague was relaxed.
