Fictional Scenes as Factual Reality

It was 4:15 in the morning, and we'd received directions from a native. He'd said, It is first right and second right, and I thought that was hysterical. (Tricky conjunctions: and is not or--that sentence was very satisfying to write.) Matt & I found the door of the bar: locked. But just like those bewildered & wandering characters in The Tempest, we could hear music and voices--what did the voices and the music mean? It meant we should follow them, of course. I pressed the button on the intercom to see what would happen. Czech is what happened. God only knows what that voice said to me. I hadn't really developed a plan beyond pushing the button, so I improvised & said, Hello. I never heard the voice again.

But the beauty came as a result of the door that wouldn't open.

It was 4:15 in the morning and Matt & I were standing in front of a locked door in Zizkov when a gypsy came walking down the block and launched an elaborate attempt to waylay us, but we summoned what remained of our wits and successfully evaded his wiles.

God bless that gypsy, and God bless Prague!

It's like, you haven't experienced New York and Washington Square Park if a rasta hasn't tried to push oregano on you. Well, I have now experienced Prague.