Hopped the wrong train due for the Czech Rep early two mornings passed. I had spent the night in the Munich Train station sleeping against the concrete, hiding under my sleeping bag and murdering time with discreet mercy before the 6:45 train came. It was cold and miserable, stirred exponentially every 3 minutes by a drunken wanderer hailing from Oktoberfest.
At 5:20, I walked to the far platform, 24. It was leaving for Prague at 6:45 and would certainly be an ample and warm place to shut eyes. And it was until 5:45...right up until the moment it undoubtedly departed for destination code name: Secret American Death Camp. I ran to a Corky looking fellow responsible for punching tickets. He told me the name of a station I couldn't understand along with a vague time. Then, he punched my ticket with a suspicious "Good Luck."
Know...I would have left marks on Fuckbag's face had the same tonal choices been made in the red white and blue.
I jumped trains at station Bieksblargistenburg, 20 minutes ahead of the train due for Prague...the one I should have been on. It happened to be stopping one track from where I stood. Oh, R Smith...
...
Woke up today around 11, feeling no ill affects from a night of Urquell and Absinthe...which a waiter free-based for us at dinner. I realized the only remaining scar tissue came in the form of Czechs trying to karaoke Sinatra...but I powered through it with help from a bowl of Czech Cocoa Puffs, compliments of the Maribou Hostel.
After dinner, I went for a 2 album run...Muse's Black Holes and Revelations and Sigur Ros' Takk. It took me through the city...across its castles, parks, cathedrals, bridges. About 7 miles in, I was backpedaling away from the great Prague Castle wondering if it would be appropriate to stop and take a closer look. And though it probably was...I didn't, opting instead to press on.
The run cleared me. It cleared all the shit that came pouring in...standing on a bridge in Munich, my body taking the rain, waiting to leave town. The sweetness of constantly finding a pearl of comfort before abandoning it...and then the vicious cycle of doing it all over again for the next 6 weeks.
Europe has been cold, dark and heavy in the eternity that has been the last three days. As I stepped out of the hostel and began to walk into town, the fixing glow that had been hiding...the beauty of a fading day resided high above this city of stolen wind. I picked up a pack of Haribo Kinder Schnuller and walked...and walked...and walked. And inside, somewhere...I knew that smile and laugh had returned...settled again in a new and distant city, with that evading pearl residing somewhere on my being for no less than three days.
