Chaos and the fat bitch with fake red hair

It all starts in America, well at least this little story does. I start dating this Czech honey and she casts some kind of spell on me (she being a witch and all), we fall in love and I decide to move with her to her homeland. In doing this, there are all kinds of responsibilities of which one must take care. One of which is to find out through what kind of hoops I must jump to get across the border.

People need to get their story straight.

I call the consulate of the Czech Republic in Los Angeles and, after dealing with a few people that hate their job, find out that I need no visa to go and visit the Czech Republic. Cool. According to them, I can be there for 3 months before I need some kind of visa (long term, resident, education etc…). Now here is the kicker: after three months, I can cross the border into another country, turn around (immediately I was told) and cross back into the Czech. Wow, I said. Sounds easy to me. But wait a minute, it can’t be that easy can it? I tell this to a friend of Hanka’s who once worked for the Swedish embassy in Praha and she says that is not correct and they should never have told me that. Really. I have Hanka call the Czech consulate and ask them for me(using Czech language) if this is true, and they then seemed to not know!

People need to get their story straight.

Anyway, I find out that, in fact, the former information was true. The only thing I must do is register myself with the Czech police within 3 days of my arrival. Sounds easy, right? Mayn, hayull naw! After arrival, we basically sleep for 2 days from travel and the time change. On the 3^rd day, we set out to go and get me registered with the authorities.

People need to get their story straight.

Míla(that is Hanka’s mom’s name) calls the police to find out all of the things that I might need before we go there. All she is told is that I need my passport. Easy enough. Hanka and I get our stuff together and head out. We walk a ways down the road to a Metro station(that is what they call their subway) to buy month long passes for the entire mass transit system.

Praha has an extensive mass transit system, it’s pretty cool. If you can not get there by subway, you can take a tram(light rail system that operates on city streets), if the tram does not go there, you can take a city bus. After that, you can walk just about anywhere. Cool deal, considering this place is only as big as Louisville, Ky (1.3 million people).

After getting passes, we catch a tram over to where I am to register. We enter this place and it was amazing. Complete and total chaos. This place makes any DMV in any major city in America look like a refined and orderly organization. The foyer past the entry is a room with about 8x8 meters of floor space. On the left are 2 doors, the wall opposite is made from bars(like a jail) and on the right is a hallway about 25-30 meters long, 2 meters wide with about 6 or 7 doors. The entire place is jammed with people, most of them Russian, all looking for a better life in the Czech. People just everywhere. In the foyer, there is a small machine that prints out a little ticket with a number on it. You take this ticket and then wait until you hear a pleasant little ‘ding’ and your number appears on a sign down the hall. You then go to whichever door is assigned to your number and you are then served.

Praha is well entrenched in certain things, like the take a number, take a seat. They are everywhere. It has evolved here to the point that the machines that dispense the tickets have a list on them of things that you might need. All you have to do press the button next to the selection that best suits your needs and you are given a ticket. The machine then asses your selection and puts your number in a queue for whichever ‘specialist’ might be best suited to serve you. Sounds like a pretty efficient system, huh.

Well this machine is broken. Everybody is pushing buttons and getting nothing and pushing buttons again to get still, nothing. I don’t get it, there are lines of people 3 wide about 6 or 7 deep standing facing the wall of bars, waiting, for nothing. It has gotten to the point where no one is using the machine any longer but they are still standing, lined up, facing the wall of bars. I am looking at this like what are these people doing, are they dumb, or is this something to which they are accustomed. Go to a place, stand in a line that goes nowhere and eventually, something will happen(hopefully good). The hallway on the right is also jammed with people, in no particular order. Actually, the line to nowhere is, in some demented way, more organized than what is going on in the hall. No one seems to know where to go or to whom to speak. I wonder if anyone in this twilight zone even knows where they are!

OK, back to the foyer. There is a Czech cop there with his back to the bars doing not much of anything. He has probably been told to stand there in case of a revolt. One could have happened at anytime. Hanka and I, like the rest of the people there, have no idea where to go. Hanka steps up and asks the cop for some information. He gives her a little piece of paper that I must fill out and tells her that I need my passport(got it) and proof of insurance(shit! don’t got it). “Insurance?” She asks. “Yes.” He says.

People need to get their story straight.

So we bail on chaos for a moment to return to the flat to get my proof of insurance. After returning to chaos we find the cop is gone. He probably ran for his life. No one person could handle that group of people were they fittin’ to rise up and get their revolt on. Not knowing what to do, we decide to go to the first door on the right where there is a small line and ask that person what we should do. We are 3^rd in line. After a minute or two, someone comes out of the office after being helped and the next person waiting goes in. Cool, this is going pretty quickly. After the next person leaves the office after being helped, the guy in front of us doesn’t go in. Hmmm. Perhaps he is just waiting, to be polite, until he is called. Isn’t that nice. Seconds after the last person has left the office we start to hear this ranting, someone just bitching up a storm. I have absolutely no idea what is being said as I can’t understand anyone in this country except Hanka, but I know there is bitching going on. Languages are different all over the world, tone is universal. Emerging from the office is, in all of her wretched splendor, Jaba the Hut’s sister. She has poorly colored red hair, glasses and an extremely poor attitude. She is complaining that no one has yet walked in to her office(lair) and she has now had to come from behind her desk to fetch the next to be tortured by her hideous presence. Hanka and I look to her, and then the guy standing in front of us and motion him to go in the office(lair). It turns out that this guy is just another one of these people standing in a line with no intention of going anywhere! Damn! Tricked! For a couple of minutes, we were one of them! So we go in to the office(lair) as we were really next and are just getting attacked by this bitch. The air is heavy in there. Hanka, in all of her kindness explains to Miss Hut our situation and then, as if she is bi-polar, starts to let the bitch have it. Cool. Just don’t get too close. Hanka is good because Miss Hut backs down. The whole time I have absolutely no idea what is coming out of their mouths but I gather that aside from a little bit of help Miss hut decides to convey her discontent with her job and, we implied, her life. The Czechs talk fast, really fast. Fast enough to the point where it sounds like they are emitting one really long word. Miss Hut sends us to doors numbered 6, 7 or 8. They can help us there. We emerge from the office(lair) relatively unscathed. We head down the hall to the doors numbered 6, 7 or 8. Everyone is just standing around. No one is doing anything. This is just bizarre. Maybe this is a form of entertainment for these people. After a moment or two of standing around and wondering which door to approach, Hanka asks a man if he knows what is going on. Turns out he is there for the same thing we are and is as lost as we are. No real answers from him. So we make a masochistic decision to go back the Miss Hut and give her another round of Hanka. Reluctantly, Miss Hut decides to take our case and asks for my passport. After a few really, really, long words between the two of them, Miss Hut informs Hanka that I don’t really need to register, why would I want to do that, and all I have to do is after 30 days cross the border, turn around, and come right back. What the hell?

People need to get their story straight.

So the end-all is this: I have not registered, and I probably will not register. I have tried to get in touch with the American embassy to register with them and ask them what I should do but I have spoken with no one except an answering machine and, as of yet, received no call back. I wonder if when I speak with them(if ever) they will have a problem getting their story straight. Hmmm…