Chasing the Green Dragon

On the second day that I knew Lucie, she came to my hotel. She arrived with her friend. I do not remember her friend’s name, but it probably is not so important. The girls took me to lunch at the Goose foot restaurant. It was the same restaurant that I ate at on my first night in Brno. Their story explained it was not the ”Goose Foot Restaurant”, but “Café Goose”, and that it was a success story of Czech business and that it had great food.

Since I really could not read the menu and it was a lot better for relations that I let them choose. They were more than happy to do so. A few minutes after the three of us sat down by the window across from the park where we had met, her friend got a phone call. Lucie and I were doing fine and her friend left the restaurant to “hear the call better”. Lucy and I were laughing and drinking beer. It is easy going with Moravian women, a lot more so than their Bohemain equivalents. After three or four pints, Lucie told me that she wanted me to try something Czech.  

I should have been concerned having been told that they eat offal meats and put enough mayonnaise on French fries to make a dozen Dutch girls wince at the cholesterol. After a few beers I was game for something Czech. She said something to the bartender and he brought a bottle covered in wax and this funny triangle shaped spoon with slots cut in it. He put a sugar cube on each of the two spoons and poured a turbid greenish liquid over it. Drawing a wooden match from below the bar, he raised it so we could see struck it with his thumbnail and lit the soaked sugar cubes.

“Hmmm, how bad could it be?” the racing blue flame means that there is more than a bit of alcohol. When the sugar melted through the spoon, Lucie told me to blow out the flame and drink it fast. She is amazing; the glass was still flaming when she put her mouth over it and swallowed it whole. The trace of fire around her mouth made me call her a “show-off.” I was a bit calmer about it, putting my hand over the shot glass to smother the flames and then quickly drinking it. The drink had a bit of a licorice flavor and something else, kind of minty and caramely. The taste was almost, licorice Listerine with the stinging bite of 100 proof alcohol.

She ordered two small glasses of beer to wash it down. Before I finished the beer, she had set up two more flaming spoons. Again I burned the crap out of my hand in my weak show of machissimo, compared to her “flaming lips” trick. I still think it was better than burning the hair off of my tongue. Again beers chased, I knew long ago that I was out of my league drinking with her. After my second shot and second kid’s beer I was ready for the flaming spoons. She pulled the same trick again. It was a pretty cool trick. I said why not, throwing the flaming shot back into my mouth. She smiled pulling me close and kissed me, more like she cleaned my tonsils. It was the least I deserved after trusting her enough to unknowingly chase the fabled dragon with her.

We sat back down at our table and were giggling as you might after three shots and three beers. She ordered us red beers and we were smiling like fools when her friend came back and asked “What?” They were talking for a minute when I realized that I had finished renting my beer and now had to return it.

Standing, I informed the ladies that I would be right back. Right after they let me know where the sign for the bathroom was. This elicited hysterical laughter, and it was followed by Lucie standing up and saying she had to go too. We were having some trouble walking, so we took each other’s arm and proceeded toward the stairs. Oh great, two drunks walking down a floor and a half of stairs in the dark, sounds like the beginning of a porn movie, or a horror movie.

We made it down the stairs, she held the rail and I held onto her. Together we could not stretch across the stairs. When we got to the bottom, there was only one door. “Ladies first” is the rule, even if it gets in the way of peeing. She went in first and closed the door behind her. I was leaning against the wall when I heard something thud from inside the bathroom.

“Pomoc!” a creaking voice said, “Pomoc!” (Help!)

Ok, this is a quandary. Do you do the unthinkable and go in while someone is using the bathroom or do you wait and not answer the call for help? Better judgment prevailed and I did not make her wait. I opened the door and found Lucie on the floor laughing her pants around her ankles. She looked up at me and motioned for me to close the door. I did, and then knelt down to help her up. She smiled and said she was a little drunk. So was I but I could help her back onto the toilet.

I am sure that the etiquette books do not ever mention a time when you can comment on the quality of the shave a woman has given her “bikini area” but it seemed a job well done. She finished peeing and stood up. She bent over the toilet and said she even got it around back too. From my point of view, she had done a fabulous job, not a hair in sight.

Now even a little drunk, spending a few minutes inspecting a pretty young woman’s nether region gets to me pretty quickly. I had to pee though. She kind of stood there waiting with her pants around her ankles. I am not sure what I was thinking, but when she said “you watched me.” It was clear what she was thinking. So I opened my fly and showed her.

Why is it so hard to pee when someone watches? A little drunk with a hard on surely does not make peeing easier. I think I was making a bit of a mess, when I heard “Let me help.”

“Ok?”, can you really say no to that? Next thing I knew, there was a warm hand curled around my shaft and a chin over my shoulder, helping me. Realizing that girls do not normally use penises, it is understandable that her aim was a lot worse than mine. At least she had not gotten any on my shoes by the time I told her “pick something to aim at!”

I was not expecting it to help her aim by stroking the length of my shaft. I academically assume that there are other techniques, but this was a new one to me. By the time we were finished, I am not sure how much had gotten into the toilet, but she was looking from underneath my arm and using two hands. The certainty of her technique aside, it was a successful outing. I no longer had to pee. She even shook for me. I appreciated her help, but stopped her before she helped me zip up for obvious reasons. Back to the etiquette questions, I know you are supposed to wash your hands after you pee. Do you have to wash them after someone else helps you pee?

We washed our hands, but mostly splashed each other in the sink and smacked each other’s asses. We stumbled back upstairs. When we returned our fried chicken salads were there and our beer was warm. I bet the Brno bishop could not wipe the smiles off of our faces. A few minutes later, her friend left again. From the kiss between them, I assume that she was not coming back. Most of the rest of this story is blurry. I realize that Czech people are normally quiet, so we must have been pretty noisy when the manager asked us to sit outside on the deck along the street.

I do not know what happened for the rest of the afternoon. I remember the tree there on the sidewalk by the entrance, but that is about all. I do know I got back to the hotel around 7pm and that I needed to go to the bank. That is a good lunch for a work day; I should remember that the next time I have “Nice Day Disease”.