So this is Prague. Nice city, no really well-known landmarks. Except, possibly, the Charles Bridge, known to many a tourist as "the bridge with the statues."





Ah, sweet reunion. The Politician and I, looking like our regular selves.





Our group in Prague, conveniently enough, included everyone I hang around with here. From left to right: two girls, the first a go-go New Yorker, a reader of Sandman and a lover of horror films, the second a Minnesota-nice Minnesotan who no one in the world could hate. I haven't thought of witty nicknames for them yet, and I'm only here for a month more so I might not bother. The next person is The Suburbanite, followed by, on the right, The Urbanite. You could read about them (and The Pancake Man) here, if so inclined.





And here are the guys. On the left is The Politician, a fellow Lawrentian who you, Dear Reader, have probably heard about before. He's one of the dozen or so Republicans at Lawrence, and a good "good acquaintance" of mine, as they say at school. The next person on the left is The Pancake Man, the same would-be filmmaker who sent us to the bridge later this same night to re-shoot Mission Impossible. I'm the good-looking fellow in a hooded sweatshirt (said hoodie has gradually become my fall jacket) with his hair shaved short (it's free and easy). Next to Our Bold Hero, on the right, is The West Coaster, looking very pseudo-bohemian and unwittingly blocking park of my face from the shot.

Stories from Prague come back to me now: the drug dealer that followed us around, trying to sell us pot (but of course she didn't ask me, which I chose to find somewhat offensive) and giggling when we told her no… the jolly accordian player at the restaurant shown above… walking across town from our flooded hostel… The Pancake Man's unacceptable generousity… the evil official on the train who "du"-ed the Czech woman in our cabin.

Eating a delicious snack that looks exactly like communion wafers. Mmm… host.

Good times…