Czech Cops, parties, and Steve Jobs

by Matt Rudnitsky

On night one of Remote Year, four dudes whose new accommodation was a bit far from the rest claimed they had a pool. Word spread fast. Pool party next week, they said.

The Czech Republic doesn’t do air conditioning, dryers, or limiting secondhand smoke to less than a carton a day. Pool? Unlikely.

There’s actually no Czech word for “amenities.”

We walked into a random courtyard that looked like a parking lot.

There were two unfiltered Czech pilsner kegs. Champagne, liquor, and full DJ equipment they rented.

…and two inflatable kiddie pools with Disney characters on them.

Genius.

Odds are, in a group of 75 people who want to travel the world while working, there will be two of everything. We have two INSANE DJs.

A car parked in the courtyard. Turns out, it was a parking lot. For the Czech Republic’s Apple Headquarters (Steve Jobs, not Granny Smith).

We danced like we were on a boat and after three hours the Czech police came. We had a translator, fortunately. The dudes gave a Czech couple champagne when they passed through, and they stayed and gave us beer and translated and saved us from the cops.

“Keep it down.” We did. Until one final banger.

The pool had been a lie. Yet the parking-lot Disney-kiddie-pool party was easily the best dance party in Prague this year.

I met a hilarious Brazilian guy at a hostel in Frankfurt. At a table of eight strangers, his ridiculous jokes brought us from awkward to bonding.

A girl asked him, “how do you come up with this shit?” as we riffed on nipple-twisting and Brazil-nut puns. Brazil nuts are the biggest of the tasty nuts.

“I just say stuff and figure out if it makes sense later,” he laughed.

There is a Czech word for amenities. It’s vybaven√≠.

I lied.

Sorry.

Say and do things without knowing where they’ll go. Needing certainty leads to a linear, boring, dead life.

Say you’re having a pool party and figure out the pool later.

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