When our train arrived in Prague, we took a cab to the Castle Steps Hotel. The cab got in a minor wreck on the way there and let us out a few blocks from our destination. Those few blocks happened to be up a steep hill on a bumpy cobblestone street.
We groaned about how heavy our bags were and talked about how in Italy, a group of pretty girls would never have to carry their luggage. Right on cue, a tall, handsome guy with a Euro mullet snatches my suitcase from my hands and says, “Hello. What’s your name?”
He was part of an Italian soccer team, and within seconds, we were surrounded by a flock of jersey-wearing men, and no one was carrying their own bag anymore.
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darn... no fernando??
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