Too Euro

On the metro, the streets, in restraunts or bars, no one knows I'm American. A Czech girl came up to me and asked me directions! My shoes, my jeans, belt, glasses--they look so European I pass on the street and no one gives me a second glance. My haircut. Thank you my super gay hair stylist for giving me a great Euro trash haircut; I fit right in. But on the second day, I've found myself already trying to look more American, because at least bad publicity is good publicity, right? Right now, for instance, three Brits couldn't figure out how to input the @ symbol, so instead of asking me, they ask the czech girl next to me, and then fumble through the language barrier. (But in all truth, I enjoy my anonyminity (sp.); notice me silently looking on at their predicament).

Last night, on a walk downtown, I stumbled upon the cannonball 8000 race cars and drivers, at their hotel. Each car was pulling up to the car and checking in with the organizers of the event. Then they sped off, revving the engines of their porsches, mercedes, lamberginis, to the car garage. One driver, who was being interviewed by a camera guy, said his car was nothing, only cost 70 Euro. Nothing...right. The race started in London, then to Brussels, Paris, now Prague, and finishes in Istanbul (I think). There was a corona promo truck with a 15 foot blown up Corona bottle in its bed; Czech promo models in blue and yellow spandex suits with white, knee-high cowboy boots; and camera men videoing and shooting the event. I guess the race gets its name from a Bert Reynolds movie; the brit girls working the event told me this, and I think they were a little suprised to learn I knew nothing of the movie.