Originally published on August 28, 2006.
I had some cash last night, thanks to Craig was a gay American ex-cop from California who found my blog through Google and then became a stalwart supporter. We became good friends and... and so I treated myself to a movie.
Febio Fest is now underway and I wanted to check out Hustle & Flow, an independent film produced by MTV about a Memphis pimp who tries to become a rap star. You see why I might be interested. (But don’t worry; I don’t wanna be a rock star. I wanna be your Jean Genet!)
The film let out at 10:30 which meant that by the time I got back to Prague's main train station, where I spent a lot of time picking up boys. I would be paying 60 Kč instead of 30 to uncheck my backpack. (Because the weather was nice that day I had put two of my homeless layers of clothing into my pack, making it weigh more than 15 kilos, making it cost twice as much to check, making me wince when I took the claim ticket from the attendant.)
I decided, rather than pay that extra 30 crowns for only 15 minutes, I would roam around the cobblestone streets in the center until morning to see if I could get into any trouble. Ah the twisted logic of homeless, horny pimps. Every once in awhile I do this and sometimes it’s fun. (Every once in awhile I do it involuntarily when I don’t have the money to get my bed out of hock. That is not so fun.)
I found a devilishly cute and incredibly smart Romanian homeless boy one night who spoke 6 languages and had been everywhere from Lebanon to London. We shared smoked sausages on the square. That post is somewhere in my draft queue, waiting for its birth. Another night I ran into another homeless guy — this one early thirties and butch as hell in a tight white tee shirt and combat boots — who wanted me to take him home with me. He settled for a blow job in Letna Park by the light of the moon. Wish I could find that one again.
This particular night, however, was simply a waste of money. Yeah, I encountered an opportunity for some free sex, as usual, but for some reason I was too scared, or too self-conscious, to act on it.
I was at my normal tram stop, Jindřišska, waiting to travel a couple stops to Picante and treat myself to my usual grande chicken burrito. At the stop was a short, chunky, brown-skinned guy, late twenties, with thick, perfectly combed hair parted on the side. I thought he looked maybe Paki; turned out to be Indian. What do I know? He was definitely a geek.
He said something to me about the drunk Czech guy sprawled under the tram stop bench and smiled as I walked up to look at the tram schedule. I smiled back. He held my eyes a few seconds longer than he needed to. I could smell beer on his breath, which is a turn-on. His little round tummy was poochin’ out his sweater and since I am so into chunky guys these days I immediately started getting hard. A few seconds later I looked down and saw that I was showin, too. Don’t know whether he saw it or not but he kept walking around drunkenly near me and all around me and shooting me looks.
Finally the tram came. He got on first and I dropped into the seat behind him. He turned slightly toward me and I smiled. After half a minute of watching him trying to make up his mind whether to speak to me I broke the ice for him.
“You look like you had fun tonight…” I opened with.
He turned completely around, smiled again and answered, “Prague is good for beer. I am here only 3 months.”
So he’s lonely. Very good. Turned out he works at the Dlouha Třida Manni Mini Mart where I sometimes shop for late night mineral water before I go to sleep. My stop was coming up and I had to somehow invite him along. Well, there’s no somehow to it; I should have simply invited him along. Instead I just told him I was going to go eat a burrito, which he evidently didn’t understand, because he frowned and begged my pardon. Then my stop came. Then I got off, looking over my shoulder to see if he watched me go. He did but that was that.
“What is the matter with you, Rick?” I asked myself later, stopping to scrape mud off the soles of my trainers just outside a silent and looming Obecní dům. After all my experience asking strange boys if they want to suck foreigners’ cocks for money I still sometimes have trouble doing a simple thing like instigating a quick fuck for myself. I know it has something to do with how I’m feeling about presentation of self lately, me and my pathetically dirty white trainers and sweat-smelling hoody. This is definitely not why I came to Prague, to balk at something so simple and so fucking right there for me to take. Silly.
I walked around for several more hours, occasionally stepping into a herna bar for a beer or coffee, once investigating the non-stop Internet in one of the square’s many tourist traps: 45 Kč for beer and 160 Kč an hour for internet access!! That’s definitely a record. But I guess if you’re a tourist and absolutely have to check your email at 4 in the morning, this place is your only option.
Dawn began to, well, dawn, and I slowly made my way to Prague's main train station, where I spent a lot of time picking up boys., where one of the boys laughed when he saw me doing my usual circuit around Prague's main train station, where I spent a lot of time picking up boys. looking for new meat: “Riki, ty non-stop!”
Hustle & flow, baby, hustle & flow.