Drink Drank Drunk

What is gained and what is lost from walking a wayward path.

A hero falls in Tua Hai. Falls out of his chair, that is. Too much Tiger Beer was his reward.

OLAFSVIK, Iceland- “There is nothing to do here. Look around, there is nothing,” an 18 year old kid in a bar in Olafsvik explained. His statements were by now seeming to me like a mantra of youth in rural Iceland. This time, finding his town beautiful and full of life, I countered his statement. “Look around, this [...]

Pipe Talk and Graffiti in Budapest“Do you know Bairro Alto?” he asked me, “Everybody hates it [graffiti] there. But to me it is a newspaper on the walls. Most of the people hate that bullshit. ‘That graffiti, that graffiti’ [they say] . . . To me it is a newspaper. I am reading right now [...]

Czech Friends, Hockey Talk, Hardcore Music, and the PoliceI was feeling a little drawn out last night. I had worked all day on completing the Hobohideout pages for the Poets Corner Hostel in Olomouc Czech Republic, wrote a little, put my bicycle gear in order, and then realized that it was 11PM. I did not [...]

One Week in Prague Czech RepublicDrunks yelling, intoxicated laughing, Englishmen fighting, and the smell of a dorm room that neither slept nor washed.One week in Prague.A week my constitution could have done without, but one which my heart reveled in. I had fun. I needed this Prague week of people running all around, cheap beer, [...]

Lessons from an Israeli Street FighterI remember walking down night time the streets of Prague with an x-military Israeli. He was talking about all the fights that he had fought; about all of the people that he had killed and wounded: “It is easy to kill,” he said, “but it is a lot more difficult [...]

To the Strip Club in Prague I had never been to a female strip club before. I never really had much of a reason to ever go. I mentioned this fact in my dorm room at the Golden Sickle Hostel in front of a drunkenly affable Irish guy of around 22 years old. He was [...]

Going to “Romania” with a Gypsy“Du da, du da,” sung the young Gypsy with a drunken smile on his face. “All the du da day!”“Come on man! Sing with me,” he encouraged us. We did sing, and frolic, and continue to make glorious messes of ourselves as we tramped on through the night time streets [...]