24. A whole lot of woman. Kansas.
Sometimes I post in bad Spanish and even worse Czech. Just a warning.

This is a body positive blog.

Places I call home, ScriptShots, This is my face
Background Illustrations provided by: http://edison.rutgers.edu/

Random memory that I just remembered that will make sense to no one.

Don’t mind me.

I don’t remember too much about this time but I’m going to jot down everything I can, to make sure I do it as much justice as I can. 

It was my last night there, less than 12 hours before my flight left. I’d left dinner with my family (Corleone’s yet again, because my brother’s an ass who refused to eat actual Czech food in Bohemia so we got stuck eating at the same Italian place over and over). I was taking the tram to the dorms at Strazni to see Pavel for the last time. He’d been vague on the plans, so I was preoccupied. I got on the tram and immediately sat down in the seat closest to the door at the middle of the car.

I didn’t realize anything was going on until I noticed the man on the other side of the train kept looking back. Then I noticed the man sitting in front of me, the stench of stale beer and body odor on him, clearly homeless. Finding them on the trams was less that unusual, so I didn’t think much of it. But the guy on the other side of the car wouldn’t stop looking back. He was saying things to the homeless man in Czech. My menial Czech skills didn’t let me understand what he was saying, but anyone could have picked up on the tone. It was fierce. He kept shaking his head, pointing at him, then at the door. Clearly he wanted him to leave, but the homeless man stood his ground. The young man even looked at me a few times and appeared to be asking something. I hated admitting I didn’t speak Czech on those things, so I just shook my head and answered with a meek, “Ne.”

The young man gave up trying to get him to leave, but opted to continue his tirade by ranting to the couple behind him. Both of them looked mildly uncomfortable with the whole thing (undoubtedly about the same expression I had), I don’t remember them saying much to him at all while he raved. Their silence seemed to rejuvenate him, so he turned back on the homeless man and started again. I understood not a word he said, yet even I could feel my skin churning from the ferocity of his words. I don’t know how the homeless man stood his ground. He may have been hazed by a cloud of hops and barley, or perhaps was more used to this kind of thing than I could have imagined. But he just sat and sat and sat and looked straight forward.

The man eventually got tired of his beratement achieving nothing, so he went to the door of the tram. He knocked on the driver’s door and started his tirade again. I have no idea if it was out of exhaustion or agreement, but the driver came out at the next stop and ordered the homeless man off the tram. The homeless man didn’t really even fight it. He just stood up and stumbled off. The young man thanked the driver profusely and sat down, clapping his hands on his knees, looking proud as if he expected people to cheer for him. In reality, most people looked disgusted.