How I Spent My Weekend


If we had been two dogs and a cat traveling 200 miles to return home, our Friday journey to Uherske Hradiste could not have been more incredible. (I've polished this analogy a bit, in my first version, I had a cat, a dog, and a rooster, but then I realized I was mixing up "The Incredible Journey" with "The Bremen Town Musicians. " As you do.)

It all began last Friday at 5 p.m. when three of us -- myself and my good friends "Bike" and "Marsha" -- set off in Marsha's trusty Mazda for the Summer Film School/Festival in the aforementioned Uherske Hradiste.

There was a quick gas station stop for a highway sticker because there were cops everywhere and Marsha didn't believe Bike's assertion that today's name day was "Mazda" and she needn't worry. (It actually turned out that it was Marsha's name day, and oh what a name day it was.)

All went swimmingly until about an hour outside Brno where we were to meet up with another friend -- Tyrol -- who was coming by train from Budapest. Suddenly, the engine seized, the car died, and we found ourselves on the side of the road considering our options and fortifying ourselves with banana bread.

We called a tow truck and a man with a very large belly and pants that threatened to go south at any moment (but never actually did) arrived within about half an hour. He loaded us and the car up and took us to the nearest town where a mechanic declared the car DOA. In a splendid display of good-trouperism, Marsha, rather than worrying about her car, began trying to figure out how to get us to Brno.

The solution was to have the tow truck guy drop the car off in a parking lot in the town (he said he drove by it five times a day and would keep an eye on it) then drop us off at the gas station/McDonald's on the highway where, within 10 minutes, Bike and Marsha had caged us a ride to Brno with a man in a van.

He took a somewhat roundabout route to avoid a big bridge he was afraid of, but delivered us to Brno safe and sound, dropping us in the center.

We walked to the train station, met Tyrol (who had been waiting there for three hours), found out there were no more trains that night so decided to check our luggage (in an area that would be closed from 11 to 4 a.m.) and catch the first train out the next morning (at 4:30 or thereabouts). In the meantime, we would just drink all night in Brno. As I said, why go to the trouble of developing these skills if you don't use them when you need them?

We had a good meal, and as we were finishing, Marsha, through the wonders of modern technology, used her phone to check the bus schedule and found out there was one to Uherske Hradiste at 1:20. Joy! We'd grab our luggage...but no, our luggage was locked in the train station.

We went to the train station to check it out, and sure enough, found it locked. But we figured there had to be another way in and as we were looking a man in chain mail walked by (this is a matter of some dispute, I say full chain mail, mostly because I believe it makes for a better story, but Tyrol, who seems more wedded to the truth than I am, says it was mail of some lightweight material, not chain. We agreed on "summer-weight chain mail.") At any rate, he was also carrying a shield, so I said, half jokingly, "Maybe we should ask this knight." He immediately turned and asked us what was wrong. We explained the situation and he advised us to use the underground passage, accesible in front of the station. We thanked him and followed his advice. (At right: Gladys Knight and the Pips, who didn't help us out in Brno, but would have if they'd been there).


We made our way through an underground passage lined with stores (all closed for the night) doing our best spy imitations, snuck up into the train station, rescued our luggage, then trotted over to the bus station. The first bus arrived, but was full. A second bus arrived, but was full. A guy in the line told us there was a train to Uherske Hradiste in an hour, so we decided to have a beer, kill an hour, then get the train. We had the beer in The. Fanciest. Herna Bar. Ever. (dudes, it was all art deco) with the guy who'd given us the train tip. He was pleasant but dull, according to Bike, who did most of the talking with him ("He kept mentioning 'open source' then laughing like he'd said something funny.")

We went to the train station in plenty of time for our 2:30 train, especially since our train (whose ultimate destination was Bucharest) was a half hour late. We stood on the platform where Bike led us in adapting the lyrics of Elton John songs to reflect the crisis in Lebanon, as you do. I can't repeat most of them here, but "Rocket Land" will give you the idea.

Our train came but it turned out that we would have to switch TWICE to reach our destination. This actually seemed about right, given the rest of the trip, and we took it in stride. It helped that we shared the car with a Czech guy who'd flown in from Copenhagen that morning and had been traveling from Prague since 9 a.m.

Three trains later, we were in Uherske Hradiste. It was 5:30 in the morning and the place was still happening -- people in the streets drinking beer or sitting at outdoor cafes, music still coming from some of the festival venues.

We took a cab two blocks to our hotel (it cost us 40 kc) then crashed.

I got up two hours later to see the new Leonard Cohen documentary, "I'm Your Man," but that's another story.